


A Funeral Pyre

by OneAgentofChaos (BeringsBulldog)



Series: The Phoenix [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi, Part Two, Romance, The Phoenix Prophecy, action adventure, egyptian mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeringsBulldog/pseuds/OneAgentofChaos
Summary: The Scoobies deal with the aftermath of Cruciamentum. Revelations about The Phoenix Prophecy and the roles played by each Scooby, the new Watcher in Training Elizabeth Summers and Quentin Travers. Everyone makes preparations for the Final Battle and Buffy and Willow find themselves deeply connected to each other.





	1. A Father's Love

**Author's Note:**

> So here is part two of The Phoenix. If you haven't read part one "A Slayer's Torment", you will be confused. It is necessary to read that first. This story picks up right at the end of "A Slayer's Torment". 
> 
> I will probably be adding more tags as I go along, including more pairings.
> 
> The confrontational scene between Faith, Giles and Travers has some verbatim dialogue from “Helpless”.
> 
> There is also dialogue from and references to“Lie To Me”. This dialogue is in bold and italics separated by /// for flashback.

As Travers watched the Slayer and the Witch slip through his fingers, a stoic mask covered his face.

The Council Head pursed his lips and sipped his now lukewarm tea. All of his carefully laid plans were for naught. Within a mere twenty-five minutes, his plans of the last 3½ years were ruined.

Travers felt he had taken into account every contingency. He knew Faith was a formidable Slayer. After all, her record had proven it. But Travers had played to her weakness: her strong emotions. A Slayer was supposed to be detached and like her Watcher, a show of emotions was not to be tolerated. Yes, he admitted Faith to be quite capable, but this reason alone did not hold up. There had to exist an extraneous source.

As Travers viewed the monitors during the test, there were times where questionable events took place. His memory replayed Kralik falling, no pushed down the basement stairs. How could this be? Travers had seen Rupert enter the field of play, but the Watcher had just entered the house when this incident had occurred. Travers frowned as he considered this improbable fact.

So, where was he now?

The power within Travers stirred, but he held it at bay. Uncontrolled anger would solve nothing. No, he would uncover what went wrong, deal with it, and move on. Now was the time to re-group, beginning with a journey back to the mother country. A new plan would be put into effect, beginning with an extensive examination of the videotapes.

Relinquishing his power was unacceptable. The Prophecy could not be allowed to come to fruition. A remembrance of a command given to his subordinates pervaded his mind: Failure is not an option.

And it still wasn’t.

Travers stood and collected the videotape cassettes, slipping them into his bag. Opening the shed door, he stepped into the chilly night air. Deciding to forego dealing with Smith right now, Travers walked to the garage to retrieve his car.

It was time to do what should have been done so long ago.

******

The ride back to Giles house was awkward, to say the least.

A temporary bandage had been placed onto the redhead’s wound, but the blood was still seeping through. It seemed that when Willow had taken out the tranquilizer dart, the redhead had been too rough. Some skin had torn off, creating a larger hole. They had laid Willow as gently as possible across the small back seat of Giles’ Citroen. As they drove back, Faith stayed in the back seat with a still unconscious Willow. While staring vacantly out the car window, Faith absentmindedly stroked Willow’s red locks that were draped across her lap.

The exhausted 18 year-old girl was in no mood to discuss anything with Giles. Faith was afraid that if she did, she would say something she would regret. Giles for his part, was too consumed with guilt to even attempt a conversation. Thus, they both held their tongues in silent agreement.

Upon arrival at the Englishman’s apartment, Giles stepped out of his battered old Citroen and opened the back seat door. He and Faith just stared at each other a moment, before he carefully lifted the redheaded girl into his arms and carried her to the apartment. Faith allowed this, albeit grudgingly, as her slayer strength hadn’t fully returned. After the night’s events, Faith had been reluctant to let her friend out of her sight.

The porch light lit their way to the door and the house itself was dark. Faith wondered if Xander had really followed her instructions to come over here and wait for her, Giles, and Willow. The Slayer’s hands still felt cold and clammy, as she fiddled with the spare keys to Giles’ house. Faith was the only one allowed this privilege, although the gang knew where Giles hid his other spare key in the garden outside his house. After a moment, Faith found the right one and unlocked the door. She flipped on the switch and was greeted by Xander and Oz wielding crossbows, with Cordelia hiding behind Xander, brandishing a stake.

Giles looked tired and pained. “Xander, please put that down.”

*****

Both boys lowered their weapons, and Xander craned his neck to peer around Giles.

“Is all good? No one following you, G-man?” Xander felt almost disappointed at the fact that there was no one to fight; from the phone call previously with Faith, he had expected a pack of vicious demons.

What he didn't expect to see was Willow in Giles' arms, limp as a rag doll, with blood seeping through a large bandage on her leg.

His eyes popped out.“Oh my God! Giles, what happened?”

Giles ignored him, barreling through with Willow, Faith on his heels. Giles' shove sent Xander stumbling backwards with such force that his crossbow was knocked from his hand with a loud clatter.

Ensuing inertia caused Xander to stumble backwards into Cordelia, whose fists were gripping something hard, pressing deep into his back. The boy yelped and started at the feeling, and Cordelia roughly pushed him away. A rush of pain broke through his wave of panic, not to mention Cordelia's loud voice ringing in his ear.

“Xander! Hello! Did you suddenly have a lapse of memory? Did you forget I have a lethal weapon here?”

“Ow!” Xander's hand automatically reached around, checking his lower back only to discovering a bump already forming. He turned to see Cordelia wildly swinging the stake held tightly in her fist, continuing her inane rant.

“Do you really want to get impaled on my stake? Though it would serve you right for my own impalement. For which, I might add, more expensive gifts (well, as expensive as you can manage in any case) are necessary to completely forgive you for my near death moment caused by Willow and your act of infidelity. Or possible insanity. I haven't decided yet.”

A retort died on his lips when he registered Oz practically leaping over the couch towards Giles' guest bedroom, and most importantly, Willow.

What the hell was he doing standing here, listening to Cordelia?

Not caring about the jealousy he would see on Cordelia’s face, Xander tore off, intent on beating Oz to his best friend's side.

*****

Faith watched everything in a daze, feeling like an idiot.

The whole night had seemed so unreal and Faith had wondered if she had accidently went down the rabbit hole. Her father figure had betrayed her; the Council's test was more than Faith could have imagined, and she had imagined a lot. Her best friend had been injured during this surreal journey and Faith had been helpless to stop it. She and Willow had climbed out of the “rabbit hole”, each left with scars both physical and emotional. And now Faith was embarrassed at her show of helplessness. She was emotionally vulnerable in front of her friends and Faith couldn't stand it.

Her friends were gathered in the room, thankfully quiet during the treatment of Willow’s wound. Each one had only vocally responded to the various tasks Giles had assigned them. Even the usually tactless Cordelia had restrained her acerbic remarks, while surprisingly showing only a small amount of fuss at the issuance of Giles’ appointed duties.

As Giles gently cradled the young redhead to his breast, waiting for Xander to appear with some fresh, clean towels, Faith centered her focus on Willow and did her best to ignore any passing glances of inquiry or sympathy in her friends' faces. Faith also steadfastly refused to meet Giles' gaze, although she sensed him once or twice making a subtle, tentative attempt.

At last, Xander appeared and lay the towels over the down comforter on the queen sized bed. Giles smoothly set Willow down, carefully placing her injured leg upon the towels. As Giles freed his hands from under Willow, his gaze immediately fell to his hands and then flipped back to Willow.

“Faith.”

She ignored him.

“Faith, I need to clean up before I can attend to Willow.” Faith still refused to acknowledge him. “She is stable at the moment. The wound has stopped bleeding. Faith...”

Faith sensed him reaching out to touch her. Before he could make contact, she jerked away and a surprisingly steady voice broke off the confrontation between the two.

“No worries, Giles. I...we'll...keep an eye on the Willster while you clean up.”

“Yes, I'd certainly appreciate that. I will-”

“No!” Faith let out a thunderous roar, the conversation just now seeping into her brain. She gave Xander a death glare and swung her head to Giles, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“I'm the one watching her. So you forget anyone else doing it. That's my job.” Faith thumped hard on her chest. “No one else's. I do it better than anybody. ” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Xander's posture become defensive, a retort obviously ready on his lips, but at the moment she simply didn't care.

“Yes, I know,” Giles said softly. “You are very capable; Slayer or not.” Faith closed her eyes in pain. The encounter with Kralik still fresh in her memory, came rushing back at Giles' words. “I am certain you would protect Willow with you life.” The was a subtle difference in his tone now, the one only she could detect, the one she heard when they were alone and he felt she did something extraordinary.

The one simply reserved for her.

Faith opened her eyes to find Giles' eyes on her. Too many emotions on his face that she couldn't deal with at the moment. But she could accept the acknowledgment and his offer of truce. The rest could come later.

“Yeah, I would,” she ground out, but then taking a deep breath, added in a more reasonable tone, “So go do what ya need to do.”

Giles gave her a brief smile and nodded. “All right. I'll only be a moment.”

Faith sensed the confusion in her friends at the exchange between her and Giles, but they didn't need to know the reasons behind it and she wasn't about to explain. Not now, anyways. If ever.

In the bright light radiating from the end table lamp, Willow looked so fragile and small, Faith thought she might actually break apart if anyone touched her.

And as Giles ducked into his bathroom, Faith's eyes never left Willow.

*****

Faith hadn't really registered how long Giles had been away, but knew the moment he returned.

Shit, does the man always use the same Brit soap.? Imperial something or other. Whatever the hell it was called, was so distinctive you could smell him a mile away.

Her lips twitched in amusement at this in spite of herself.

“How is she?” Giles asked, already rummaging through the med kit Oz had stashed next to the end table.

“I haven't noticed anything different if that's what you mean.”

For the first time in who knew how long, her focus shifted from Willow to watch Giles slip on latex medical gloves and gingerly sit on the edge of the bed. He carefully lifted the temporary seeping bandage, assessing the wound.

Without turning around, Giles said, “Faith, you need to clean up a bit before we start if you intend to help in any way.”

“I'm not leaving her,” she stated flatly.

Giles swung around to face her. “I won't start until you come back. I will simply prep.” Faith glared, forgetting all about the previous truce in favor of build up animosity, unable to help it.

“Like you “prepped” for me this week, Giles?” It was just a twitch, but Faith saw it just the same, and there was a part of her inside satisfied at his discomfort. “No, I mean it, Giles. I am not fuckin' leaving her side.” She stared pointedly at Giles. “I don't do that kinda shit to people I care about.”

Giles held her fixed stare for a moment, then turned to Xander. Faith's mind registered the boy's slight nod towards Giles, almost in silent communication between the two, pissing her off even more. She didn't have to hear the words to know what was said. Yet again, Giles was questioning her right, her need, her ability to look after her best friend.

“Faith, it'll be fine. I promise. We're all right here and won't let anything happen to her. I'm guessing just a minute or two, right?” Xander spoke in a consoling tone causing Faith to switch her heated glare from Giles to Xander, who was slowly moving towards her. He stopped just short of her and the look of love and caring on his face was enough to cut through the red haze. For the first time in that long night, Faith felt enough trust to hand Willow's safety over to someone else.

Faith blew out enough air to cause strands of her messy hair to fly about her face, the action released some of the tension. She had been as taut as a bow, the strings so tight, it was ready to snap at any given moment.

Faith was about to thread her hand through her hair when she caught sight of her grimy hand. She reflexively brought up the other hand, flipping over the palm and back of her hand a couple of times.

Giles wasn't questioning her lack of trust; he was being practical. She experienced a bit of shame and embarrassed at her overreaction (even a bit silly) but covered it up in her usual gruff fashion.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” Faith had the urge to gave a Giles a pointed glare, when she stated, “I trust you, Xander.” but resisted the temptation.

Xander gave a small smile, and Faith retreated to the bathroom to wash off the filth of the night.

*****

Faith had washed and changed her clothes faster than she ever had in her very short, yet eventful, life.

She returned to find Giles remove a syringe and a bottle from the med kit. Faith cringed and couldn't stop the warning growl at the sight.

Not tearing his attention away from filling the syringe with the painkiller, Giles answered the unspoken threat. “It’s just a local, Faith. She’s not a slayer, and I don’t want her to wake up from the pain of the stitching.”

The entire process seemed to take ages, and Faith lost track of time. She never tore her eyes away, her hard face twitching at each needle puncture of Willow's soft skin. At last, Giles removed his surgical gloves, and tossed them into the trash bag set aside. Lifting Willow's small leg he removed the towels underneath and deposited them in a bag. Faith exhaled a sigh of relief at the procedure over. Now it was just a matter of getting Willow settled so she could rest. Everything else could be dealt with later.

While Giles cleaned his hands with a disinfectant wipe, he asked, “Xander, can you or Oz take away the kit, please?”

“Sure, Giles. I got it.” Xander grabbed the heavy medical kit, and heaved it back into the living room with a grunt.

Oz gazed at Giles in his usual reserved manner as Xander lumbered through the bedroom doorway. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, please deposit this into the bathroom to be dealt with later.” Giles handed the bag with the bloody towels to Oz and quickly added looking fully into the boy's face, “If you could keep Xander out of here, I would be eternally grateful.”

Grabbing the bag, Oz gave a small smile, nodding. Faith saw a look of pain flash over his usual impassive features and then the redheaded boy left the room.

Tying off the trash bag with the discarded gloves, gauze, and various used medical supplies, Giles said, “Now, she just needs to rest. Faith, I’m going to bring in one of your t-shirts you keep here and a pair of my pajama bottoms. I'm aware they won't fit, but I don't have anything else. I need you and Cordelia to change her into some soft clean clothing.”

Cordelia looked aghast. “Giles, I do not want to see Willow’s naked body.”

Giles turned beet red, obviously extremely uncomfortable at the remark, so Faith answered for him. “I doubt she wants you to see her naked body either, Cordy. I can’t lift her without help, so you’ve been volunteered.” Annoyed, Faith threw out a lure, hoping Cordelia would take the bait. “Unless you want your boyfriend to do it.”

Cordelia took the bait. Her bristled, her lips pursed in a hard line. “Fine, I’ll do it, “and then hurriedly added, “but you're the one who is doing the actual clothing removal.”

“Whatever. Just hold her up while I change her.” The Slayer was exhausted, just wanting this over as soon as possible so she didn’t have to think anymore.

Giles stood up from the bed and picked up the trash bag. “While you two settle things, I’ll be right back.” As an apparent afterthought, he informed, “There are the extra blankets Oz brought over on the chair. I don’t think we should move her at all, not even underneath the covers.” Faith watched the embarrassed Englishman leave the room, trash bag in tow.

“Look, Faith-“ Cordelia started.

Faith cut her off. “Cordy, just shut up already. We’re leaving her underwear on, for Christ’s sake. Just fuckin' close your eyes while we do it and stop havin’ a cow about it.”

Cordelia’s face grew hard before Faith was surprised to see it soften. “I was just going to ask about what happened tonight.”

Faith avoided the other girl’s gaze. “Look, Cordy, I can’t talk about this now.” Her eyes lifted to meet Cordelia’s in a plea for understanding. “It’s just…I just can’t, okay?” Faith needed to hold her emotions in check and Cordelia was not helping. Just as Cordelia opened her mouth in response, they were interrupted from any further discussion by the arrival of Giles.

They took the clothes from him and set about preparing the redhead for a comfortable rest.

*****

Willow had finally been settled into Giles’ spare bedroom when a knock at his door surprised them all.

Xander glanced at Giles uncertainly when no one moved. “Should I answer it, Giles?”

Should he? No one was expected, the Scoobies were all here.

A nagging suspicion crossed Giles' mind that he really wanted to ignore. Even though this confrontation was inevitable, right after the test was unconscionable.

Dear lord, he hoped he was wrong.

Drawing himself together, Giles tried to mentally prepare. Ripper wasn't out but he was more than ready to make an appearance at the slightest provocation.

“Yes, please.” Then as Xander began to make his way to the door, he added, “Do look in the peephole first, however.”

Xander nodded but Giles could see wariness in the boy's face, no doubt the same thought of who it could be when everyone they knew was here.

Reaching the door, Xander looked through the peephole and turned to Giles warily. “Giles, there’s an old guy wearing tweed out there. Is he one of your crowd?” His words may have been glib, but the tone matched his expression of distrust.

This time the knock was accompanied by a voice. “Rupert, it’s Quentin. May I have a word with you?”

Faith, who had thus far any assistance until Willow was treated and settled, noticeably stiffened in her seat. Xander noticed the action and for a moment Giles feared the boy might react. Giles thanked God that at this moment Xander did not know the full extent of what had happened. The boy would act first, ask questions later.

Pausing, Giles removed his glasses, and briefly indulged in his cleaning glasses ritual, his way of dealing with the difficulties of life. He waved in an attempt at shooing the boy, “Please open the door, Xander.” When Xander hedged, Giles said tiredly, “It's all right, Xander. Just let him in, please.”

Xander took one last look at Faith, concern evident in his expression, but the boy did as he was told. In the doorway, stood, hands in pants pockets, Quentin Travers the bane of Giles' existence. Giles slid his glasses back onto his face and walked up to the door, holding it open. His initial suspicion of Quentin's arrival confirmed, he slid on the mask of the Watcher.

“Hello Rupert.”

“Quentin.”

Giles moved to the side, allowing Quentin to enter. Giles’ brow darkened as he watched the Council Head saunter into his home. God, how Ripper hated this condescending bastard.

Quentin dismissed the people around him in one glance, speaking to Giles directly, “Just you and the Slayer please, Rupert.”

Xander opened his mouth, but Giles held up his hand to halt the boy’s protests. “Yes, of course.” Giles turned and addressed the Scoobies. “Thank you all for everything, but I must ask you to take your leave.”

“But Willow’s-”

Again, Giles held off Xander’s protest. “Xander, please.” Giles paused, emphasizing, “Please just go.” This time Giles was worried Xander wouldn't relent. In a softer, and what he hoped was reassuring tone, Giles said, “There is no need for concern. Faith and I need to speak to Mr. Travers alone.”

There was cause for concern. The whole night was cause for concern but it wasn't time for Xander's involvement. This inevitability was between Watcher, Slayer, and the Council. For once, Giles would put his foot completely down to outside involvement.

“But Willow-”

“She's fine, Xander.” Instead of looking at her boyfriend, Cordelia narrowed her eyes directly at Giles holding his gaze. And something passed between them. Cordelia was aware something significant was happening, even if she couldn't pin point what, and they truly did need to have Xander leave.

“But Cordy-”

“No buts.” She pushed hard on his back. “I can only take so much tweed, thank you very much. Being around Giles is where I draw the line. ”

“Come on, Xander.” Oz began to leave, but glanced back at Giles and said softly, “Take care of her, please.”

Oz's eyes flickered at Quentin, who stared back impassively. As Oz returned his gaze to Giles, the wolf seemed to be lingering through the boy's eyes. “Call us if you need us.”

Oz and Cordelia dragged the still protesting Xander out the door. But at the entryway, Cordelia stopped and looked at Quentin.

Well, not just looked.

It was more like judged.

No wonder her nickname was Queen C, Giles mused absently. Her scathing gaze made one feel like a cowering, frightened rabbit, waiting to be killed for dinner at her leisure.

Cordelia, he thought, would have made any tyrannical monarch proud.

The appraisal of her subject over, Cordelia smirked and her message was loud and clear: You think you have everyone fooled. Well, I have news for you. I'm not fooled. Don't even try to mess with me because I will destroy you when you least expect it.

Then surprising Giles, she winked at him, turned heel and closed the door.

The Queen had spoken.

Giles couldn't help the trace of a smirk on his lips. Despite the situation, the appearance of typical Cordelia actually helped Giles. A reminder that their normalcy still existed in the unreal chaos of the night.

However, Quentin seemed to be oblivious or not threatened, which was probably more the case. The Council Head simply slid his hands into his pants pockets, rocking slightly, arrogance in tact. The stance brought back the burn of anger raging inside Giles.

Quentin cleared his throat. “Ah, Miss Lehane, I am here to talk to you about the test.”

The Slayer still sat in Giles’ armchair, her face directed away from them. When Faith brought her head around to face them, Giles witnessed a look of pure hatred aimed at Quentin before Faith’s face morphed into impassivity. She sat silently, waiting for him to speak.

“Congratulations, you passed. You exhibited extraordinary courage and a clear head in battle. The Council is very pleased.”

Faith said nothing, simply continuing to stare at him.

“I can see that you’re upset-“ Quentin began.

This time Faith spoke, her face breaking its impassivity to match the venom in her voice. “ You understand nothing!” Faith, still very disheveled, shakily stood. Giles rushed to her side to help her stand, but she angrily shook him off, and he wondered at her even having the strength to do anything at this point.

“Ya know, I knew the Watcher’s Council were a bunch of assholes, but even I didn’t think you would do somethin’ like kidnap an innocent girl.” Faith paused, then spat, “Fuck, Willow who has absolutely nothin’ to do with this!”

The Council Head held his ground. “You think the test was unfair?”

“Let me put it this way...” Faith taunted “I think you better leave town before I get my strength back.”

“We’re not in the business of fair, Miss Lehane.” Quentin paused. “We’re fighting a war.”

“You’re waging a war,” Giles broke in, livid. “She’s fighting it. There’s a difference.”

Quentin used a tone usually reserved for a teacher admonishing a troublesome young student. “Mr. Giles, if you don’t mind-“

Giles purposely echoed the same tone, dismissing Quentin. “The test is done.We’re finished.”

“Not quite.” The hint of a smirk crossed Quentin's face. “She passed. You didn’t. The Slayer is not the only one who must perform in this situation. I’ve recommended to the Council, and they’ve agreed that you be relieved of your duties as Watcher immediately. You’re fired.”

Giles had expected this, but asked anyways. “On what grounds?”

Looking at Giles with contempt, Quentin said, “Your affection for your charge has rendered you incapable of clear and impartial judgment. You have a Father’s love for the child, and that is useless to the cause. It would be best if you had no further contact with the Slayer.”

Giles stiffened, head held high in a gesture of defiance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, well, I didn’t expect you to adhere to that. However, if you interfere with the new Watcher or countermand his authority in any way, you will be dealt with. Are we clear?”

“Oh, we’re very clear,” Giles retorted, his eyes on fire. “Now get out of my house.”

Returning his gaze to Faith, the Council Head said, “Congratulations again.”

“Fuck you,” Faith spat at him.

Quentin’s lips twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, well, colorful girl.” Drawing his hands from his pockets, Quentin strutted to the door and opened it. The Council Head paused for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. Without turning around, he stated,” There will be a new Watcher here by the end of this coming week.”

And with that, Quentin Travers took his leave.

******

The soft glow of Giles’ desk lamp no longer gave Faith the comfort she had received from it in the past.

Over the past 2½ years, through Angelus, through the Master, through the problems at home, through all of the various hurts she had experienced, Faith would come here and feel a sense of safety. And although she nor Giles wanted to admit it vocally, for parental love. Now all of that seemed to have disappeared within the past two to three hours. Once again, Faith was reminded again that nothing was black and white, even the motives of the people you love and trust.

If this was the case, she didn’t want to know the truth. She didn’t want to be grown up and responsible. It was too hard. Faith wanted to live in the lie, where life was simple. Now ironically, she just wanted Giles to lie to her, to make it all go away. To make it all better, like he did, in what seemed to be so very long ago.

/// “Yes, it’s terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.” ///

Why does living have to be so painful?

Faith sat boneless in the armchair, numb. She was too tired, too many emotions had passed through her, and it was all starting to catch up. Everything had left her emotionally raw, and all of her normal defenses had been ripped apart. Lost in a haze, Faith was startled to suddenly find Giles on the couch next to her.

Faith stared at him a moment, before silently accepting the offered glass of water. She was surprised to discover how thirsty she was and drank greedily. Handing it back, Faith sank deeply into the cushy armchair. As her eyes began to droop, she felt a warm cloth gently cleaning her dirty smeared face. It was all too much. Faith closed her eyes, not wanting to see the contrition in his eyes that she knew was there.

Just before Faith succumbed completely to the sandman’s call, she was enveloped in the warmth of a blanket placed over her exhausted body.


	2. Dreams Of A Warrior and Nightmares Of A Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{{“Sek and Mot appear! Prepare your magicks!”
> 
> As Shu, Maahes, and Serqet set about protecting Ra and the barque, the coil of the water snake demon rose from the waters, attempting to strike the ship. With a battle cry, Buffy swung her shining magnificent sword in a wide arc as she jumped into the fray. }}}
> 
> Buffy sat bolt upright on her lumpy motel bed, disoriented. Her eyes began to focus again, taking in the surroundings of the dingy motel room. She felt sticky, and looked down to see a drenched tank top from perspiration. Lifting her head in wonder, Buffy spoke to the empty motel room.
> 
> “Okay, what the hell was that?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The dream sequences were very fun to write, and will be confusing for now. I will explain everything down the line!
> 
> \-------------------indicates Giles' Journal
> 
> ***** indicates scene separation 
> 
> {{{ Indicates Dreams }}}

 

Buffy was hungry and…well…

Now was certainly not the time to be thinking about Willow, Buffy thought with a blush. She was trudging across one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale, taking a shortcut to the Doublemeat Palace. The tiny blonde was so hungry that she felt she could even stomach that crap. Thank god she didn’t have to work there. The smell of the grease alone would make her sick.

It wasn’t until about a mile from the Council Safe House that Buffy had felt it was safe enough to take off the Glamour. Before continuing, she had stashed her weapons in her pre-appointed hiding spot. Buffy had been so stinky and dirty, that no amount of fiddling with her clothes and hair seemed to make any difference. Eventually giving up, Buffy had taken off for her “home”.

If you could call it that, she mused.

Now, she continued her trek through the cemetery, which had been thankfully (and almost strangely) quiet; no demons and no vamps. Buffy didn’t know what to make of this, but was too tired to care at the moment.

“God, finally,” she mumbled, seeing the glaring neon sign of the Palace. Fifteen minutes later, she grumbled to herself about the incompetence of teenage fast food employees unable to make a simple burger, not to mention how they had held their noses while serving her. Plodding on, Buffy made her way back to The Sunnydale Arms in a state of annoyance.

Sighing as she came upon the dreary motel, Buffy decided to forego checking the front desk for any messages tonight and searched her scruffy leather jacket for her keys. Everything was quiet, including the room that regularly featured Fuck Fest ’99 right next to hers. She noticed that the room was dark as she unlocked her door, giving her hope that the sex obsessed couple had finally checked out.

Buffy flipped the light switch on and threw her greasy food bag onto the motel’s provided desk. Grimacing at the glaring overhead light, Buffy switched on the old lamp and turned off the offending overhead fixture. Unable to wait any longer, she scarfed down the double order of fries, almost choking in the process. She then roughly drew out the two triple meat burgers, nearly tearing the bag in her fervor. After wolfing down the burgers, the tired, but now sated, blonde shrugged off her leather jacket, wincing as she did so. Buffy gave herself a long gaze in the mirror after gingerly peeling her tank top off.

Damn, I look like hell.

The tiny blonde coming down from her adrenaline high, felt the enormity of the night began to take its toll. Abruptly Buffy’s legs swayed, and she made it to the bed just in time before she fell over. Her entire body began to shake uncontrollably and the tears Buffy had held back for so long suddenly began to fall. Overcome by the intense emotions, her tears turned into gut wrenching sobs.

All of her planning, all of her preparation for this night during the past 3 ½ years was over. Buffy had been successful. The Slayer and the Witch had survived. The completion of the Prophecy was one step closer to being successful.

Revenge is sweet, so they say.

But now, love had replaced the need for revenge.

Her sobbing subsided at she thought of the sweet redhead and the wonderful kiss they had shared. A silly smile spread across her face. Buffy shook her head at herself and even laughed a little as she wiped the last of the tears from her bloodshot eyes.

God, Summers, can you be anymore mushy?!

Pure exhaustion replaced any more thoughts of Willow. Running her hand over her tear streaked face, Buffy stood up on her now steady legs. She glanced around, seeing a box of Kleenex by the sink. Walking over to the sink, Buffy withdrew a Kleenex from its box and gave a good blow of her nose. Why does your nose plug up so much when you cry? That was probably loud enough for the whole hotel to hear.

Deciding a shower was more than in order, Buffy disrobed as quickly as her sore body would allow. She tossed her clothes anywhere and everywhere, not really giving a damn, soon, a scattered trail of dirty clothes followed the blonde as she headed to the bathroom. Buffy turned on the shower, and stepping inside, allowed the hot cascading water to cleanse both body and mind.

Twenty minutes later, a freshly scrubbed Buffy appeared in a clean tank top and cotton yummy sushi PJ bottoms, feeling and looking more relaxed. She collapsed onto the still made bed, intending to only doze for a few moments. Instead, Buffy fell into a deep sleep.

{{{ Buffy knew instinctively that she was on a never-ending journey throughout the Duat. She held her animalistic head proud, as her powerful human body wielded the gleaming sword in preparation for what was to come.

Buffy held a grudging respect for Shu, Maahes, and Serqet, but none of them were strong enough to kill the water demon. Only a few could kill him. Buffy knew that, and felt the need to boast.

“Every day I slay the enemy of Ra when I stand at the helm of the Barque of Millions of Years, which no other god dare do.”

Standing at the helm, Buffy turned to look at Ra, who simply nodded his head in acknowledgement of her proclamation. Buffy shifted her regard to the beautiful Serqet, feeling a primal need stirring deep inside her. The goddess, daughter of Ra, lifted her head, and held the warrior’s intense stare. Buffy experienced the urge to run her fingers through Serqet’s long, silky hair. The goddess was so good, yet so deadly. The scorpion that rode on the top of Serqet’s head reminded Buffy of that. But as usual, Buffy was not afraid, knowing that she herself was strong and invincible; she was the great Set, after all.

Besides, it was obvious to Buffy that Serqet was not interested in causing Buffy harm. It was clearly quite the opposite. This thought crossed Buffy’s mind as she reveled in the heat of pleasure rising into a deep blush on Serqet’s face during their perusal of each other. The sharp intake of breath drawn by Serqet did not escape her notice either. Smirking at the display, Buffy brought her attention back to studying the waters.

As they came upon the Bakhu mountains, Buffy knew that the time grew near, and steadied herself for the upcoming battle, tightly gripping her sword. A movement drew her attention to the banks of the waters. Two figures appeared, sailing towards them in a barque. As they approached, Buffy discerned them brandishing weapons meant for her and for those she protected. She stole one last glance over her shoulder at Ra, who stood silently in the bow; the sun god watched the warrior with nothing but complete trust and confidence. Buffy’s gaze briefly fell upon Serqet, and the powerful warrior grinned upon seeing the goddess’ face still flushed from their previous encounter.

Swiveling her head, Buffy now placed her full attention back to the helm. Their enemies drew close. The proud warrior brought up her sword in battle stance, yelling so the others could hear her farther down the barque.

“Sek and Mot appear! Prepare your magicks!”

As Shu, Maahes, and Serqet set about protecting Ra and the barque, the coil of the water snake demon rose from the waters, attempting to strike the ship. With a battle cry, Buffy swung her shining magnificent sword in a wide arc as she jumped into the fray. }}}

Buffy sat bolt upright on her lumpy motel bed, disoriented. Her eyes began to focus again, taking in the surroundings of the dingy motel room. She felt sticky, and looked down to see a drenched tank top from perspiration. Lifting her head in wonder, Buffy spoke to the empty motel room.

“Okay, what the hell was that?!”

*****

Although he was exhausted, Giles found himself too wired for sleep.

Faith however had just surrendered to sleep in his armchair; it didn't take much. Giles was surprised she had stayed awake for as long as she did and in Giles' mind, Faith was only running on nothing more than petrol fumes.

Giles had been loath to move her, although he was certain she would wake up with one hell of a crick in her neck. At the risk of her ire, he resolved regardless to wake her soon, hoping Faith wouldn't balk at sleeping in his bed. For the meantime, Giles had retrieved a soft, fluffy blanket from the hall and returned to her side. Now as he gently covered the exhausted girl, Giles simply stood for a moment, watching her.

He was so proud of her. But Giles was also afraid and angry for her, and he had never felt so powerless. At himself, he felt nothing but loathing. Somehow Giles needed a way to process the events of the evening in the attempt to regain his sanity. He sucked in a deep breath and headed over to his desk to do just that.

Giles plopped undignified into his desk chair and sank back into the frame, the need for straight posture more than lacking at the moment. The Englishman removed his glasses, set them on his desk, and closed his eyes. The events of the night flipped one by one through his brain, like an unwanted grotesque slide show. “Unflappable” Giles was on his emotional brink. He roughly rubbed his palm across the entire length of his face to gather his wits, and rose to retrieve the comfort of an old friend.

Earl Grey tea.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in his desk chair and had settled enough to organize his thoughts and emotions. Reaching into his desk drawer, Giles withdrew the book that after tonight, he would never write in again.

Giles opened the book, placing pen to paper.

\--------------------

From the Watcher’s Diary of Rupert Giles

12 January, 1999

This is to be my last entry into this diary, as my post as Faith’s Watcher has been rescinded. Quentin Travers terminated me this evening on grounds of invalidating Cruciamentum by informing my Slayer of the test, as well as entering the field of play in order to protect her and Willow Rosenberg, an innocent.

Quentin’s exact words were: “You have a Father’s love for the child, and that is useless to the Cause.”

If I had the power, I would send the bastard and his sheep straight to hell to face the demons Faith fights every day, and take great satisfaction in the knowledge he would suffer again and again in the bowels of hell.

I no longer have any qualms in venting my true feelings towards this matter, Quentin, or the Council. Far too long I have done my best to adhere to Council policy. I was trained to do this; I believed in the Cause. “We are waging a war against Evil. The Slayer is the instrument to achieving this goal.”

The Slayer is not an 'instrument'. Something to be used and discarded without thought, without consideration. Merely an expendable pawn on their chessboard in which Travers reigns with his Council as 'court'. She is a living, breathing girl. A girl who was unknowingly given this monumental task. She was never given any choice in the matter.

Faith Lehane has taught me that.

\--------------------

*****

Willow was dreaming.

The young redhead was in a deep sleep, unaware of anything past Faith’s dusting of Kralik. It had been a dreamless sleep and as is the usual case with dreams, Willow was unaware that she was in one now.

{{{ Willow was in the bow of the Barque of Millions, prepared to help Ra in whatever capacity her father needed her. As the scorpion goddess, her magickal control of serpents and scorpions was legendary. Depending on her mood, Willow could heal one from the deadliest venom, as well as punish one with the deadliest bite. She was Serqet, and wrong doers dreaded her burning wrath, while mothers and children sang her praises as their protector. However, Willow was fully aware that even she did not have the strength to defeat the water snake demon; they had Set for that.

She mused for a moment on the strong warrior with his animalistic head and powerful human body. Willow saw his magnificent sword sparkle against the waters as Set waited for his adversary. She admired him, and couldn’t help but feel a slight tremor of desire erupt through her body as she gazed upon this great warrior.

But Willow also knew how vain he could be. This knowledge somehow served to provoke a feeling of annoyance, followed by an inexplicable ache for him to touch her just once. Willow could not understand her body’s responses to this. His current boast of conceit again produced these two reactions, leading to the usual confusion in the goddess.

“Every day I slay the enemy of Ra when I stand at the helm of the Barque of Millions of Years, which no other god dare do.”

At this proclamation, Willow saw Set turn to stare at Ra in expected acknowledgement. Ra nodded his assent, and Set held his head higher, if at all possible. Before Set returned to his watch, Willow locked eyes with the strong warrior. The fierce stare brought a surge of heat rushing through her body, steadily rising to becoming a deep red blush on her face. Sucking in a breath, the young goddess caught the smug expression cross his proud visage before he returned to his duty.

Willow returned her attention back to readying her spells, still feeling her face flush from the meeting of his piercing gaze. Abruptly, Set’s voice rang out, and Willow’s head quickly snapped up to see Set’s muscles ripple in anticipation as he stretched his sword out before him.

“Sek and Mot appear! Prepare your magicks!”

As she, Shu, and Maahes set themselves for the attack, Willow gasped as the water snake demon’s tail rose in the waters, attempting to upset the barque. Unconsciously, Willow glanced at the helm, just in time to see the powerful warrior give a mighty yell and leap into the fight. }}}

Willow woke up, drenched in sweat, crying out Set’s name.

*****

“Set! Set!”

Giles halted his writing in alarm, hearing Willow’s cry echoing loudly as it rang throughout the house. His head snapped up to see Faith jerk awake and bolt out of the armchair.

A wordless scream spurred Giles into action. He roughly pushed away from his desk, uncaring that his cup of Earl Grey fell and spilt onto the clean carpet. On top of Faith's heels, Giles raced to Willow's bedroom.

Good God, what had Quentin done to her?

*****

Inside the dark basement of the Council Safe house an inhuman scream rang out while red glowing eyes watched in satisfaction.

The Master smiled, knowing his Servant would never fail him again.


	3. Contemplation and Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes are indicated by: **********
> 
> Journal entries are indicated by: --------------------

Buffy woke to fierce sunlight peeking through the small gaps in the heavy motel curtains and she smiled, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her small fists.

The lithe blonde stretched out languidly under the covers like a contended cat, practically purring in satisfaction. Her mind felt clearer and lighter than it had in a long time, so she deliberately shut out introspective Buffy. Self-examination always issued an invite to her rage and fears, but today she wisely rescinded the offer.

Buffy squirmed a bit, fighting the strong urge to rollover and burrow underneath the blankets and pillows. Instead, she placed her entire forearms under her heads, basking in the feeling of doing nothing. For the first time in over three years, Buffy allowed herself to shrug off any consideration of time factors in favor of enjoying a relaxing Sunday morning. The shrill of children outside her room, however, countered those plans. Her mood soured somewhat at this unwanted intrusion, causing Buffy to muse on how a child’s tiny body could emit such a powerful volume of sound.

Damn children of the corn.

The blonde continued to grumble, and stole a glance at the nightstand, displaying a small travel alarm clock.

'Hmm. 8:42 A.M. I actually slept past eight o'clock today.'

This knowledge as well as the children's voices fading, brought the return of Buffy's sense of contentment. She emerged from her cocoon, yawning widely but feeling refreshed. The enticement of a nice, hot shower spurned her into action.

A freshly scrubbed Buffy appeared ten minutes later, rummaging through her duffel in search of a casual t-shirt and dark jeans. Her quest successful, she quickly dressed and opened the curtains slightly, wincing at the bright morning sun.

'Now, where's my jacket?'

Buffy scanned her room, ticked off at her tendency to just toss the leather coat anywhere and everywhere.

"Aha!" Buffy shouted her triumph.

She found the strewn coat in the narrow space between her bed and the wall. Buffy grunted as she retrieved the wedged coat, it apparently more secure than she had originally anticipated. The hold finally relented and the small blonde searched for her treasured friend living inside her jacket pocket.

Her hunt a success, Buffy randomly tossed the poor jacket, committing the same sin she had just chastised herself over a mere two minutes ago. The blonde plopped herself into the fake wooden chair at the probably equally fake wooden table and began to write.

\--------------------

From the Journal of Buffy Summers

January 23, 1999

I’d forgotten how nice it is to simply do nothing. I think the last time I did that was before I was Called. Sundays would be nice, but it was really Saturday mornings that were the best. Nothing says good morning like a bowl full of Cap’n Crunch and watching Scooby-Doo and the Gang pulling the mask off of the Black Knight or the Ghost of Captain Cutler. Darn those meddling kids!

Well, Fawkes is taken care of. Sent him an old school telegram, just like he asked. God, I really don’t think he’s mentally all there. But I laugh when I think what I sent: “Hogwarts is fine. Black is still alive and kicking.”

He probably heard the news from that asshole prick Travers anyways. It’s only a matter of time until I get my next assignment, since Rupert Giles is no longer their Watcher.

Went and picked my weapons up last night. Thank god they were still there. I had my doubts about that glamour hiding them, but it obviously did the job. Checked out the safe house. It was cleaned up. Figured as much. It seems Travers is on his way back to jolly old.

I keep trying to shake off the lingering effects from the dream on Friday night but can’t seem to do it. It was intense. Okay, let’s face it: the whole goddamn night was intense. But that damn dream was so vivid. It seemed so real. God, we’re so not talking prophetic here, are we? Why do I have to deal with that? I’m so sick of prophetic dream bullshit! It really does fit right in with what we already know about the Prophecy, though. Damn with a side of crap.

Haven’t talked to Fawkes about the dream yet. I thought I’d kinda like to do some checking on my own first. It’s really not safe to discuss anything with him until I see him anyways.

The Slayer should be back to normal by tomorrow. I can’t help but wonder how Willow is doing. She is strong but everything was so intense. From what I’ve seen, she is doing fine physically, but emotionally? I don’t know. How much of the whole thing does Willow remember? I have a feeling she remembers the kiss. Whether that’s good or bad, I don’t know. Whether I jeopardized my plan is another unknown.

\--------------------

Buffy abruptly dropped her pen on the table, leaning back in the creaky chair. The blonde ran a small powerful hand across her face, lapsing into self-recrimination.

'Okay, if you keep going on like this, you’re gonna go into depresso girl mode here. C’mon Summers, you were just lying in bed happy, not twenty minutes ago…Well, ‘kay, more like sorta happy… happier than you’ve been in awhile at any rate, so quit wrecking it up! I mean, hello! the girl you love is safe for the time being. So is the Slayer for that matter. They should be safe for a good long while. From now on, you will definitely have a better idea of how stuff is gonna go down coz you’ll be on the inside. See? No worries. So take a fuckin’ chill pill! Jeez.'

A bemused expression flitted across her face, as she wondered at her inability to simply just relax and enjoy a beautiful day. A particularly fierce ray hit the corner of her right eye, reminding her that now the prospect of something good awaited her, besides her self-imposed darkness of the past three years. Buffy straightened her back, resolved to take advantage of this rare gift in her topsy-turvy world.

A ghost of a smile traced her lips as she looked forward to consuming more chocolatey goodness than the human body could handle.

**********

Willow’s bleary eyes barely opened before she hastily shut them, throwing her extra pillow over her face to shield the sun’s rays that dared to disturb the redhead’s Sunday morning slumber.

“Grumble, grumble,” Willow mumbled to herself. She tossed back her blankets and swung her legs to rise from her comfy bed. The young redhead stood and stretched, her small, thin body hidden by her oversized purple nightshirt. She scowled at the offending drapes and complained to the empty room. “Boy, I’ve got to get the drapes fixed. I’m really tired of this. If I was a vampire, I would have gone poof! a long time ago!”

After the obligatory trip to the bathroom upon rising from a long sleep, Willow ambled over to her computer, switching it on. Opening the Scooby Files folder, she accessed her computer journal.

\--------------------

January 23, 1999

Frankly, I don’t even know where to start. I mean, everything involving Cruciamentum seems blurry in my head. When Faith came by last night to stay over, she wanted to talk about what had happened during the Council’s “insane” test as well as my dream at Giles’ that night.

At first I tried to wiggle my way out of it, saying I was tired and wanted to go to sleep. But Faith being Faith…well, let’s just say that Faith knows me better than anyone, and knows when I’m not being full disclosure Willow. So, I told her some stuff and that I was just not ready to discuss anything further. Which really is true. I really need some time to process everything and to deal with some things on my own at the moment. Faith let it slide, knowing it was time to give me some space and not push the envelope on this. She knows I’ll come to her when I’m ready and she’s wise enough to accept that fact.

I had left her and Giles with the impression that the dream was just a nightmare. A nightmare?! Ha! It was awfully real to just be a nightmare. I mean yeah, it scared me, but there is definitely something more going on in the dream. I know I’ll relate more of it to Faith later on, but why do I still feel like a bad, bad Willow? It still seems like a white lie not telling her everything now. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do…argh!!! This whole situation is making my stomach all rumble-y and my head all woolly. I wonder if I have any Pepto Bismol and Tylenol in the house...

Really though, I just didn’t want to talk about it in front of Giles, which makes me very sad. I used to feel like I could tell him anything. Now (to be honest) I don’t fully trust him anymore.

Faith says she made up with Giles but I can tell they have a long way to go before the trust factor kicks back in. Poor Faith. The Council is just evil...evil to the core, that’s what I say. And what I say goes. ☺

As for Travers, something is wrong with him. Like I said, I don’t remember tons, but I remember his red eyes and he felt kind of demon-y to me. I remember something about Travers wanting to know whether we knew about The Phoenix Prophecy. What the frilly heck is that?! And why was he asking me about it? I mean, he’s Mister Big Council Head Guy, so he should probably know more than us. Right?

And boy, was he Mr. Meany about it too! He hit me and now there’s a bruise on my face. I won’t tell Faith how I got that either. She was pretty upset I had a bruise in the first place and she was ready to go all Slayer on Travers. I am kinda scared what she might try to do to him. I know he deserves it, but I just feel that right now we have too much to deal with without the Council more involved than it already is. Luckily, I got her to finally let the whole thing drop.

I did get my own little revenge though. There was some other Council guy who tried to pull an Oz on me and knock me out with a tranquilizer gun. My witch-fu powers kicked his Council booty! That’s what you get for messing with a bad ass Wicca! Heh.

And that kiss! I never felt anything like that, not even when I kissed Xander and Oz. And it was from a girl! I’m not supposed to like girls! I think I’m blushing just from the thought of it. That part kinda freaks me out coz I think I kinda liked it.

Who was that girl? And where did she go? A couple of times I thought I had both sensed and seen her, but my head has been so messed up. I admit there is a part of me still freaked over the whole thing. After all, who wouldn’t be? But somehow I feel safe. I mean sure, my witch-fu powers are stronger. Go me! But...well, okay this may sound crazy here, but I feel like there is a presence watching over me...and Faith too, but especially me. Since my witch-fu powers have increased, I can sense things better. This presence is familiar. It feels like the girl who kissed me and watched over me during Cruciamentum. Is she like a guardian angel or something? Do guardian angels kiss the people they are supposed to watch over?

I digress. Girls kissing me in the dark surrounded by major badness does that to a person.

Well it’s time to stop thinking confusing rambling thoughts and be action girl. Now that I’m better, I’m going to get to the bottom of the Phoenix Prophecy and the dream/nightmare (?) at Giles’...Heck, I have no idea what to call it. I do know from my World History class that Egyptian Mythology somehow plays a part in whatever it is. Unfortunately I don’t know enough to analyze the quote unquote dream at the moment.

Thinking about the “dream” though still gives me the willies. Okay, first off, yeah...scorpion riding on top of my head. I can’t even deal with frogs, let alone a super poisonous insect! But it’s weird coz during the “dream” it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As for Set, I felt like I knew him...like I had met him before. Are we talking body possession here? I was really attracted to him too! But why was it that in some ways I felt him to be more of a she than a he? Could it be…? Golly, my life is confusing.

Obviously it’s research mode time. But I don’t want to do research around Giles, so I’ll go someplace else to do it. I would be net girl here but I’m not sure how much I want to do on this computer. Am I just being paranoid? I think after everything that just happened I have a right to be paranoid!

Oh gosh! What if someone accesses this journal?! That would be very much badness all around. It’s time to do some hardcore protection for all of my files. I don’t want anyone to be able to trace my stuff or my computer history. I'm not sure what to do, though there is something that will maybe work...

\--------------------

Willow bit her lip and studied the blinking cursor. Playing metaphorical ping pong in her head over the merits of her idea she finally reached a decision.

She just hoped and prayed to various deities that Giles would never discover what she was about to do.

**********

~Somewhere over the Atlantic~

Quentin Travers greatly admired the sleek Council airplane in which he was currently residing.

The jet was small but flew through the air with such power Travers was in awe. Although the jet itself was subject to the Council’s whims, it seemed to come into its own as it flew throughout the sky. Up here the sleek airplane was on its own, able to do as it pleased in reaching its destination. The Council may direct the plane to its destination but the plane had a mind of its own. When they flew on the powerful plane, it was the Council members who were at the plane’s mercy. The plane was free to do with them as it wished.

Currently the Council Head was on his way back to English soil, due to land in one hour’s time. Today had been a long, tiring Sunday for Travers. The repercussions of the Circumentum debacle had threatened his plans but he was able to thwart them easily.

Now he was finally able to sit back to enjoy one of the many privileges of his position; this magnificent airplane. The engines were soothing and he leaned back into his plush seat, calmed momentarily, reflecting on these entitlements and their limitations. Travers had available to him a vast amount of money to spend as he so desired and had quick access to any mode of transportation. He was known and revered by heads of State, privy to their secrets and wants.

But Travers wanted more.

Even his hypnotic hold on the Council wasn’t enough. Somehow in the back of his mind, Travers realized that he was being lulled into temptation by that temptress known as power. But really, he simply didn’t care. Travers craved power the way a drug addict needs his next fix. Just the idea of more power was intoxicating, but in what form would this power take and to what ends? The standard world domination power trip was ridiculously cliché. The only thing the Council Head knew for sure was that he wanted more control, more influence. And Travers had no idea where this craving would lead him. This knowledge filled him with both trepidation and excitement.

Wearily but neatly, Travers filed his various papers into the proper folders. He bent down to lift his fortified black briefcase up to his worktable, unlocking it with the complicated combination he had employed. After placing his papers into the now open case, the Council Head firmly closed and locked it, running his hands over every part of the case while repeatedly fiddling with the lock. Travers was finally satisfied that the case was safe from any potential intruder access. He grunted with effort as he replaced the briefcase to its original position.

A crick in his neck was a reminder of the effects the recent events had played upon his body. The topic of his advancing age was something the Council Head did not like to address. Travers knew he would have to soon, but right now he had more immediate concerns.

Rubbing his increasingly wrinkled hand over his haggard face, Travers sank even deeper into the airplane seat. As he looked out the window at the pitch-black sky he contemplated his next move, knowing that caution was still a concern. There was no reason to resort to hasty actions that would disclose his true intentions, not to mention his true self. Travers still had two months, after all.

Reaching a verdict on his musings, Travers withdrew his private cell from his pocket and made the first of his calls to begin phase two of his plan.

**********

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, poking at his clean-shaven face while twisting and turning his head looking for any signs of wrinkles marring his youthful features.

“I could have sworn I saw-”

The pajama-clad Watcher was interrupted from his musings by the ring of his phone; his private cell phone to be exact. The tone of the ring was unmistakable. Wesley rushed over to his polished neat-as a-pin bureau where the object in question was charging. Before picking it up, he straightened his pajama top and smoothed his dark brunette hair in front of the large mirror in front of him. The young Watcher’s mind was vaguely aware that this action was somewhat ridiculous as no one was there to see him. The action though, brought the familiar pleasing feeling of reassurance, for which he was grateful.

Wesley cleared his throat and removed the phone from its cradle, answering it without checking caller ID; only one person used this line. He mentally prepared himself for whatever his superior asked of the young British Watcher. “Good evening, sir. How may I be of service?”

“Good evening, Wesley. I didn’t disturb you, I hope?” Wesley line of sight fell upon his antique cuckoo clock; its hands showing 10:58 P.M.

'Dear God, why does he always insist on phoning me at night? My wrinkles will never go away if this keeps up.'

“Of course not, Mr. Travers. I am at your service, as always.”

“Yes, well, I am in need of your service, so it seems. The Slayer passed the test of Cruciamentum. Mr. Giles however, did not. I therefore revoked his status as Miss Lehane’s Watcher. I am assigning you and your young protégé to replace him immediately. Make preparations to leave tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.”

“Sir, Miss Summers is already in the States; Los Angeles to be exact.” Wesley removed his spectacles, nervously fiddling with them, worried over Travers’ reaction to this news.

“What is she doing there?”

Wesley could hear the frown accompanied by a small dose of lurking suspicion, which the young Watcher took measures to quickly counteract. “She is on holiday there, Mr. Travers. You approved the requisition four months ago.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. I had forgotten.” The distrust dissipated, much to Wesley’s relief.

“Of course, sir,” Wesley soothed. “As Council Head, you have a tremendous amount of responsibilities to maintain. You have always greatly succeeded in dealing with many matters at once. However, recent events must have required an extreme amount of attention. After all, Cruciamentum is a significant event in the Slayer’s preparation of her duties.”

“Yes, that is quite true,” Travers acknowledged. “At any rate, contact Miss Summers immediately. I want you both ready to begin with the Slayer within the next couple of days.”

Wesley put his spectacles back onto his now perspiring face. “Certainly, Mr. Travers. I will instruct Miss Summers she must call her holiday to an end in order to prepare for her new assignment. I shall have her meet me at the Council apartments in the outskirts of Sunnydale.”

“Excellent.” Wesley relaxed slightly at the satisfaction in his superior’s voice. “Contact me when you arrive.”

“I can promise that it will be done and that you will be pleased with the proper training Miss Lehane will receive through our instruction, Mr. Travers.” Wesley just wanted to end this anxiety inducing conversation.

“I hold you to that promise, Wesley. There will be consequences for both you and Miss Summers if you do not deliver. Do you understand?” Travers’ thinly veiled threat was not an idle one, causing Wesley to take pity on those who had failed his master in the past.

“Yes, very much, sir.”

“Alright then good night, Wesley.” The young Watcher breathed an inaudible sigh of relief at the signal that the conversation had reached its fruition.

“Good night, sir.” Wesley closed his cell phone crisply, all traces of anxiety superseded in favor of a grim determination. Immediately the young Watcher strode across his bedroom to his closed wardrobe to begin preparation for what was to come.

Wesley smiled smugly.

Everything was falling into place, just as he had foreseen.


	4. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to apologize for not getting this out sooner, and will try for a more regular basis for posting
> 
> Second, yes, this is actually a sort of repost. I originally put “A Slayer’s Torment” and this story into one called “The Phoenix”. I eventually decided to break it up into two stories instead. Instead, both stories are part of “The Phoenix” series. I only have part of this story written and am hoping to finish it at some point.
> 
> Third, Buffy and Willow are endgame so no Willow/Tara, even though Tara is crushing on Willow at the moment. Don’t worry about Tara though; I have another girl for her down the line. :)
> 
> Fourth, thus far I’ve been doing one character POV per scene. During Willow’s coming out scene with Faith, I felt it was important to show both sides. Coming out is very hard, and the first time I told anyone was in a similar situation. 
> 
> Fifth, the telegram to Buffy is in bold. Down the line, you’ll find out what it means.
> 
> Sixth, thanks to all those reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

A key unlocked the gloomy motel door and a small blonde stumbled through it in great impatience.

The day’s promise had been fulfilled. Buffy had allowed herself the opportunity provided for some much needed rest and relaxation on this beautiful Sunday, her only concern being the arrival of night, which would precipitate her return to business.

Patrol had been easy tonight, although there had been traces of a demon resurgence. Buffy had suspected that the quiet before the Cruciamentum had been most likely due to Travers’ orders. It had been apparent that Travers had wanted the Slayer and Willow alive for the Slayer’s coming of age test. The Council Head had always wielded a certain amount of influence in the Demon world; this Buffy had known. But she had never been able to discover the extent to how deep this sway ran.

Feeling the aftereffects of the night’s slay running through her system, Buffy bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t work some of it off dancing. She needed to stay away from The Bronze; she still couldn’t risk being seen there. There had been a time in Buffy’s life in which dancing had provided her with a means of escape, as well as an outlet for her frustrations. It didn’t matter what club the blonde went to; they were all the same. Every club would exude sex, the gyrations of each person, looking for the same release. There was the slow build of foreplay as Buffy began the ritual, allowing the music wash over her. She swayed to the pounding, sometimes sensuous beat, her arms raised in the air. The music entered her, as she began to dance faster and faster. Buffy would close her eyes, biting her lip, as she edged closer and closer to her pinnacle. Finally the feel of pure joy flowed through her, nearly making Buffy cry out in the feeling of sheer bliss. Upon leaving the floor, the petite blonde experienced a sense of great contentment, a stark contrast to the hell of her destined reality.

It had taken a great amount of willpower to resist those urges and return to the dank motel. Once there, Buffy had checked her messages at the motel desk. She been handed an envelope, its contents proving her sacrifice worth the outcome.

At least, that’s what she had hoped.

Buffy had been barely able to contain herself from tearing open the envelope immediately. However, she had known that privacy was important, but still couldn't help nearly running back to her room in excitement. The blonde had only slowed her pace to a quick walk when the cigar-smoking man wearing a dirty wife beater at the ice machine had given her a funny look.

Now Buffy threw her key on the motel dresser drawers, not bothering to put on the lights. She eagerly grabbed the envelope from her jacket pocket, ripped it open, and withdrew the message, nearly tearing it in the process.

Even with her keen eyesight, light was still a necessity in order to read the contents. Cursing, she found the lamp and switched on the light. Buffy sucked in a long, deep breath and read the message.

**Black has been assigned to Fawkes to help Harry, and to watch over Hermione. Black must arrive at the headmaster’s office after it closes on the day of Mars.**

Buffy nearly whooped in joy and relief, knowing that she would soon be granted her heart’s desire.

*****

Tara Maclay hovered around Willow Rosenberg’s locker, hoping the redhead would stop by soon to gather her books.

It was only Tara’s second day at Sunnydale High, but the shy blonde was already smitten with the bouncy redhead. Her powerful, beautiful, and unique aura had practically knocked Tara off her feet yesterday, and the tall blonde yearned to meet this amazing redheaded girl.

Much to Tara's dismay, when she had been introduced as a new student in Ms. Gellar’s World History class, Willow had barely glanced her way. The redhead had seemed to be oblivious to anything except the young brunette teacher.

(In fact, Tara had thought that if she looked hard enough, she would have seen drool forming at the corners of the Willow’s mouth)

Willow arrived, waking Tara from her reverie. The young redhead wore a curious look on her face, presumably at the sight of Tara standing next to her locker.

Gathering all of her courage, Tara said, “H-hi. I’m Tara. We’re in Ms. Gellar’s history c-c-class together.”

Willow just stared at her in confusion so Tara tried to clarify, inwardly upset at her stuttering making an appearance. “I just started y-y-yesterday.”

Willow’s confusion cleared into recognition. “Oh! Yeah! I remember now!”

The redhead dropped her overfull Snoopy backpack onto the hallway floor and began to twist the dials to release the combination lock.

“Did you need some tutoring?”

The tall blonde briefly glanced down, a curtain of hair falling about her face. Looking shyly back up, Tara softly answered, “No. I just thought…maybe you could use some help.”

Willow paused in her effort to retrieve her lunch and change her books for her afternoon classes. Her eyebrow’s rose quizzically at Tara’s offer.

“Help? With what?”

“Hello?!”

Tara was startled to hear an arrogant, annoyed voice behind her. “Can you move please?” The shy girl pivoted only to see a blonde twirling a lock of her hair, standing with one hand on her hip.

“You’re standing right in front of my locker.”

Tara’s insecurities immediately surfaced as the small blonde girl simply stared at her in blatant condescension. Tara heard Willow behind her, slamming her locker closed. Ducking her head in apology, the stutter was worse than ever at this confrontation. “W-w-we-”

Willow was suddenly by her side, eyes blazing. “What’s the matter, Harmony? Late for your 'Lunch for Dummies' class?”

“Look, Willow, just because I have to put up with your locker next to mine doesn’t mean I have to put up with your loser friends hanging out in front of my locker. I do have a reputation to maintain after all,” Harmony retorted.

“Yeah, there’s even a hot line devoted to your reputation: 1-800-I’m-A-Skanky Ho.” Willow snapped.

“You’re just jealous that I have important friends and you hang out with a bunch of freaks!”

Willow rolled her eyes, mocking, “Oh, by the way, don’t forget to take your textbook entitled The Idiot’s Guide to the Art of Lunch Conversation for Those Who are Intellectually Challenged to class.”

The redhead placed her hand on Tara’s arm, steering her across the way to a secluded corner, ignoring any more outbursts from Harmony.

“Sorry,” Willow looked sheepish as she adjusted her still bulging book bag on her slim shoulders. “I just thought it’d be easier to talk over here.”

“T-That’s okay,” Tara quietly replied, a heated blush rising to her face at the thought of her redheaded rescuer.

“So…what did you mean you could help me?” Willow picked up on the thread of the previous conversation.

“Do you know much about auras?” Tara asked.

Willow started, seemingly taken aback by this inquiry. “Well, some… I mean…well, you see, I’ve read some stuff…” Willow trailed off, finally admitting, “Well…okay, not a lot, I guess.” The redhead frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing in guarded suspicion. “Why are you asking?”

“I just…” The tall blonde struggled to explain, clutching her books tighter, hugging them to herself against her tide dyed shirt. “My mother taught me to read auras. Yesterday, when I first saw you in Ms. Gellar’s class, there was great power surrounding you.”

“Great power?” Willow echoed. “Me?” The redhead's suspicion morphed into wide-eyed wonderment.

“Yes, you do, but it was wild, fragmented. I-I thought I could help you learn how to control it,” Tara affirmed.

Willow’s curiosity seemed piqued. “Are you a Wiccan?”

“Yes, I am. I thought we could practice the craft together,” Tara shyly offered, while the inner desperate plea of ‘Please, oh please say yes!’ reverberated through the tall blonde’s mind.

“So then, you’re a witch.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Tara nodded, her long patchwork quilt skirt slightly swaying as she nervously shuffled her feet.

“Wow!” Willow exclaimed, beaming. “Me too…I mean, I’m a witch too! Not my mother though…she’s Jewish…my Dad is too... Judaism and witchcraft are very unmix-y things, you know.” Willow nodded seriously as if to emphasize her point.

Tara felt herself melting at the cuteness of Willowbabble. “Well, I was thinking that maybe we could practice some this coming weekend?”

Willow grinned, bouncing on her toes. “You mean like spells and stuff?”

“Yes. I mean…well, if y-you’re not busy, that is.”

“No! No busy here.” Willow’s emerald eyes shone and Tara thought she could get lost in them. “Is Saturday evening okay?”

“Sure.” Tara’s smile spread across her rosy cheeks.

“Great!” The redhead chirped. “We can work out the details after tomorrow’s history class.” Willow stole a quick glance at her wristwatch. “Gosh, I have to go! I’m sorry! I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Tara couldn’t help the pang of disappointment at the redhead leaving so soon, even as she inwardly cheered at spending time with Willow this coming weekend. Saturday seemed so far from today; it was only Tuesday. “O-okay.”

“All right then...well... bye! See ya later!” Willow snagged her bag and left, running down the hallway.

And Tara’s heart left right along with her.

*****

The young redhead’s face scrunched up in deep thought, absentmindedly toying with the corner of her World History textbook.

A shadow spread over Willow, blocking the sun, not to mention the girl’s nervous fiddling. “Careful there, Red. You keep goin' like you are, you’re gonna destroy that book and I’ll think Xander is possessin’ your body.”

Willow frowned in consternation from her lotus position, lifting her head to glare at the Slayer. “Faith, please don’t compare me to a hormone driven teenage boy.” Willow resumed her repetitive fidgeting, looking down to stare pensively at her textbook.

Faith plopped down unceremoniously next to Willow on the cool grass with her long leather clad legs stretching out as she relished in the beautiful, sunny Tuesday afternoon at Sunnydale High. The Slayer removed her Ray-Bans from their propped position on the top of her head and placing them on, leaned back on her hands. Yesterday (to the approval of the Slayer) saw the return of Southern California warmer January weather, with the promise of staying the rest of the week. The cold only served to remind her of last week’s emotional events.

Faith glanced over at the young redhead, having an idea of what had caused her friend’s brooding. The Slayer decided to kid Willow out of her gloomy mood, before tackling the suspected issue. Faith sat up and scooted over to wrap her arm around the redhead’s shoulders, trying for maximum charm.

“Aw c’mon, Red, don’t be mad.” Willow continued to frown, her brow furrowed. The brunette playfully rocked them both slightly. “You know you can’t stay mad at me.” Despite herself, Willow felt her mouth slightly upturn into a smile. The Slayer smirked and withdrew her arm, stating in a cocky fashion, “Knew it. No one can resist the Slayer’s wily charms.”

Willow sighed and rolled her eyes, her sulkiness steadily fading. Faith lay back down to rest on her side, facing the redhead. Propping herself up with one hand supporting her head, the Slayer removed her Ray Bans, studying her young friend with concern.

“Do you need me to come over to your house tonight to help you study for the World History test on Thursday?” Willow asked, wanting to move the topic off of her and her mood.

“Nah, I got it covered.” Then a sly smile spread over Faith’s face, pleased that she was presented with the perfect opportunity to uncover the closeted reason for her best friend’s moping. “I’m sure you’re ready though. More than ready since you spend as much time as you can by talking to Ms. Gellar after class everyday.” The Slayer playfully gave Willow a confidential wink.

Willow swatted Faith on the arm in indignation at the insinuation. “I do not!” Faith just raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know that I just find the class very interesting and Ms. Gellar is very intelligent…intellectual...for a high school teacher…not that high school teachers aren’t that way…I mean, Mr. Gibbons in Physics went to M.I.T…I mean, he could go back and get a PhD! Plus-”

Faith had a notion of letting the young witch babble until she wore herself out but decided to interrupt instead. It was so much fun pressing Willow’s button on the topic of anything involving sexuality whatsoever.

“Okay whatever you say, Red. But ya know this is me, your best friend, who I might add, knows you better than anyone else. I’m just sayin’-” Willow looked so troubled, Faith decided to take pity on her friend. The Slayer drew a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “Look, I’m just sayin’ I’m here for ya… ya know, if ya want to talk about stuff. Like stuff with Ms. Gellar.” Faith deliberately stared meaningfully into Willow’s frightened eyes, hoping to convey her desire to only give comfort and understanding, not judgment.

Willow bit her bottom lip, her freckles standing out in the bright sun. She looked down, tugging blades of green grass out randomly. Willow was silent for a moment in anxious contemplation and at last she uttered, “Well...um…I’m not sure…but…” The girl paused, then spoke in such a low voice that only a Slayer’s hearing could detect it. “I think I like-like her.” Willow was afraid to peek at her best friend fearing condemnation on her face.

Faith smiled indulgently at her best friend. Despite her time with Oz and the “fluke” with Xander, Willow was really nothing more than a sweet, innocent girl. Hoping to spare the young redhead any embarrassment, Faith emphasized normality. “Everybody has crushes on teachers. Hell, I had a whopper on Mr. Robinson back in eight grade.” Faith frowned a moment before adding, “Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking? That man was kinda an ass.”

Willow leaned closer to the Slayer and hissed, “Not their same-sex teachers!”

Faith rose to sit close to her best friend. “Look, Red, it really is no big deal. Shit, most people make too big a deal about anything involving sex anyways.”

Willow tentatively asked, “Have you…you know…”

“Had a crush on a girl?” Faith said with ease. “Sure I have.”

Willow’s eyes opened wide at this revelation, before they narrowed in anger and hurt. “How come you never told me? I thought you were supposed to be my best friend!”

Faith just casually shrugged. “Well, I guess I didn’t really think about it. Mostly they happened back in Boston. Then I came here and right away it was all about Angel…” Faith trailed off, lost in memories.

Willow could see signs of self-blame beginning to emerge and quickly spoke to nip it in the bud. “So, you’re really okay with this?” Willow intently gazed at Faith, searching the Slayer’s face for a reaction.

“Of course. And ya know, if you are gay, it don’t matter.” The redhead blushed furiously, opening her mouth to protest when Faith jumped in. “You are, and always will be, my best friend, Wills. No matter what.”

With watery eyes, Willow hugged the Slayer. Faith, never one for the emotional stuff, gently pushed her friend away. “Alright, enough with the mushy shit. I can only deal with so much at one time.”

Willow laughed at her friend, her tears drying up and feeling much better. The young witch’s face suddenly lit up as she remembered the exciting news she had wanted to share with her best friend. “Ooh! Ooh! I forgot to tell you something!” Willow’s cheeks flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling. “Guess what it is?”

Faith never ceased to be amazed at Willow’s enthusiasm for things. The Slayer smirked. “Red, you’re gonna have to tell me what it is. I ain’t guessin’.”

Willow ignored Faith and continued. “I met this girl today and she’s a Wiccan! She’s been practicing witchcraft her whole life…well, I guess most of it anyway…since it was her mother who taught her all kinds of stuff...like auras...my aura -”

“Red! Stop the babblin’ and get to the point already!”

Willow snapped out of her babble daze. “Oh Yeah!” Willow grinned widely at the prospect of learning something new, something helping her to fight evil. “Her name is Tara. She just started here and told me she could see great power in my aura!”

Faith thought Willow was about to burst from excitement, her hands and arms sweeping in wide gestures as she talked.

“She told me my power was wild, but that she could help me learn to control it. We’re going to practice this Saturday!” The young witch proclaimed proudly.

Faith just smiled good-naturedly at Willow, happy for her friend. Sliding her Ray-Bans back on, the Slayer leaned back to stretch out, placing her forearms behind her head. Faith closed her eyes as the two relaxed in silent mutual agreement to enjoy the warmth of the day.

“Hey!” Willow’s exclamation caused Faith to slightly raise her head. The Slayer slid her Ray-Bans part way down her nose, eying her friend over the lowered glasses with a quirked eyebrow.

“Aren’t you late for training with Giles? It’s two thirty now.” Willow held up her left arm, nearly shoving her Scooby-Doo wristwatch in Faith’s face, pointedly tapping the dial.

The Slayer shrugged dismissively and Willow pulled back, concerned at the vulnerability appearing on Faith’s face. Abruptly the Slayer’s expression closed off, with Faith’s bravado mask back in place. The play of emotions on her best friend’s face only served to fuel the redhead’s unresolved anger towards the ex-Watcher.

Faith impassively slid her Ray-Bans back on, reclining onto the green grass. “I got a bit of time. I told G-man I wasn’t gonna show up until three. He wasn’t very happy ‘bout it, but, ya know, whatever.”

Faith’s indifference caused Willow to wonder, not for the first time, just how successful Giles’ and Faith’s talk had gone on Saturday. Faith had pronounced everything to be “five by five” between them, but Willow doubted it could be that simple.

Willow knew that it would take more than a simple “I‘m sorry” from the ex-watcher before their relationship could be healed. Logically, she understood Giles’ motivation. But the emotional part of her still wondered how he could do something so immoral.

Willow wisely decided to drop the subject, not wanting to dwell on her own fractured relationship with the ex-Watcher.

Wanting to be supportive of her friend, Willow timidly suggested, “Well, I can go with you, if you want. I mean…well…we Scoobies are always there, ready to help. You know, what if some Big Bad is coming? You’ll need research gal to help.”

The Slayer was touched by the redhead’s sweet earnest offer to help, regardless of Willow’s own personal feelings towards the ex-watcher. She rose again and faced the redhead, removing her sunglasses. Faith let out her bravado, hoping to ease Willow’s mind. “Hell, G-man knows how I am. I never make it on time anyways. I think he’s secretly happy ‘bout that. After all, that’s less time to kick his butt when we spar.” Faith smirked, tucking her Ray-Bans onto the collar of her tank top.

“Yeah, I guess.” Willow’s eyes were downcast.

Faith nudged her friend, becoming a bit more serious. “Look, Will, I guess it’s not for me to say, but maybe you would feel a bit better if you talked to Giles.” Faith took a deep breath. “I’m gonna come clean here. Things between me and Giles aren’t totally five by five, but shit is better, ya know? I’m okay with some stuff, but...well...hell, I don’t know…” Faith ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “We do have a lot of shit to work out. I just think you would feel better if you chatted a bit with him. I know he wants you to talk to him.”

Willow raised her head to look at her best friend, reticent. So, she was right about Giles and her best friend; they still had a long ways ago. Despite Willow’s lingering distrust of the ex-watcher, she decided to offer an olive branch, for Faith’s peace of mind if nothing else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to him,” Willow relented and then waggled her finger in indignation. “He just better not try anything more with you. My witch-fu powers are better and I’m very good at kicking booty.”

Faith grinned at her friend’s protectiveness and stood. The Slayer brushed her leather’s free of any dirt and grass, offering her hand to Willow. Faith pulled the redhead up, slipping her arm around the girl, and went right into teasing mode. “Don’t worry Wills, I doubt Giles will want to cross a bad ass witch.”

Willow nodded in all seriousness. “Darn tootin’!”

Faith laughed. “C’mon, let’s go.”

With that, the two friends walked back into the halls of Sunnydale High in hopeful anticipation of a promising future.


	5. A Certain Point Of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow is having major think-y thoughts, Xander struggles with answers, and Cordelia is naturally unfazed by the whole thing. Oh, and a young Watcher named Wesley Wyndam-Pryce shows up to take over for to take over for Giles, but how is it possible for an Egyptian god take physical form?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I have used different parts of Egyptian mythology, but there are certain aspects I change to suit the needs of the story.
> 
> -Willow’s journal entry is in italics.

  
“Good to see you, Wesley.”

Wesley appraised the young blonde woman standing in front of him as she offered her hand. He was rewarded with a firm handshake. “Let’s run down the check list, shall we?” The young Watcher stated in his most arrogant manner.

The blonde woman smiled, a quick bob in compliance.

“Brown Business Suit. Tweed, I might add. Glasses. Excellent posture and manners. Authoritative voice. Hair in a sensible bun. A true Watcher in every way.” Wesley smiled, before becoming serious again. “Now, Elizabeth,” he cleared his throat. “Let us go inside, and we can discuss matters further.”

Wesley fitted the key into the lock, turning the door to reveal an immaculate Council dwelling. Upon entering, Wesley laid his luggage by the small oak writing desk and judged their accommodations.

The lodgings may not have been as posh as where Travers stayed when he was in town, but it was apparent that the Council (most likely at Travers’ orders) had allocated a great deal of money and time in the preparation for their assignment.

The living room was medium-sized, seemingly every space utilized. In fact, everything appeared to be brand new. The furniture included a couch, armchair, and furnished coffee table. Two matching end tables resided on either end of the couch, each featuring an ornamental lamp. An expansive bookshelf leaned against a wall, lined with a variety of ancient tomes. On the opposite wall, a sizable ornate wooden cabinet existed, housing a variety of weapons, and sparring accoutrements. Off to the side was a kitchenette, separated by a swinging white door. A stone staircase led to upstairs, which included Wesley knew, two compact bedrooms, a bath, and a small study. The study supposedly contained rare books, as well as a secret compartment containing items that only Wesley was privy to.

In short, the dwelling comprised all the necessary items for a young Watcher and his protégé.

“Now, Elizabeth, why don’t we get settled into our respective bedroom. Tonight, we will discuss our timetable and make the necessary preparations for tomorrow.”

The young blonde woman adjusted her spectacles. “Excellent. I look forward to it. However, ” she glanced down, examining her tweed jacket critically, “Do you happen to be aware of a quality dry cleaner in the area?”

Wesley regarded her silently for a moment. “Yes, yes. Here let me right down the address for you.”

The young Watcher withdrew a pen and a mini notepad from his inside jacket pocket. Wesley scribbled down the necessary information and handed it to Elizabeth. “Let’s see. It is 4:00 now. I believe they are open until 6:00. It would be an excellent idea to drop off your jacket tonight.”

The young woman pocketed the spare bit of paper with only a perfunctory glance. “Thank you, Wesley. Yes, I will take advantage of that.”

Wesley deposited the notepad and pen back into the lining of his suit, his eyes flickering briefly on Elizabeth’s tweed jacket pocket.

“Make sure you do, Elizabeth, make sure you do.”

***

“Xander Harris, are you going to dance with me or not?”

It had been a mellow Wednesday night at the Bronze. After arriving from patrolling, Faith and Willow had barely stayed more than twenty minutes; Willow claiming the need for sleep and study and Faith claiming the need for downtime after slaying.

This last excuse sounded feeble at best to Xander. Faith. Downtime after slaying? If anything, Faith would be rip roaring to go, burning up the dance floor until Willow and Xander would do their best to commandeer the Slayer to leave. There was no way Faith needed downtime. Something else was going on, Xander knew it. And just maybe, maybe, it had to do with last Friday night during Cruciamentum.

Xander felt hurt by his bestest buds pulling what he saw as an Obi-Wan Kenobi white lie over what really happened in the Council Safe house.

Didn’t it hurt Luke more when he found out the truth about his father from Darth Vader, than from his trusted mentor? And what did Obi-Wan say when Luke called him on it? “So what I told you was true...from a certain point of view.”

An intense curiosity, laced with a growing sense of mild irritability about that “certain point of view” pervaded Xander’s musings. It had scared the bejeezus out of him when they had arrived that night at Giles. They had all looked like hell, but what had really frightened him most was the state Willow had been in. Sure, the fluke was over, but Xander still loved Willow more than anyone else. She was really his only family; Willow was the sister he never had. She was what had kept him sane in this god-forsaken town.

It wasn’t until the knowledge of Giles being fired had reached him, and upon hearing about Cruciamentum, that Xander had been ready to go all “wild bunch” on the Council. Cordelia had managed to restrain him, persuading him with the argument that, for Willow and Faith’s sakes, it wasn’t in their best interest to antagonize the matter any further. Although Xander acquiesced, in his heart, he harbored a grudge, and knew his restraint on the matter was only temporary.

As Xander fretfully mused, a disdainful Cordelia was decidedly ignoring Harmony and her sheep. Despite officially being public with Xander for nearly a year, there was a part of her that still resented her fall from grace with the popular crowd. Xander was acutely aware of this, and, even though he knew he shouldn’t feel this way, his ego was extremely stroked over Cordelia’s choice of him instead of the popular crowd.

“Cordy, please. I told you earlier. I’m trying to figure things out. Something is not right, and Faith and Willow won’t tell me what it is.”

Cordelia unclipped her Gucchi purse to pull out her compact, and proceeded to examine her features for any deformities. After all, one could never be too careful living on the Hellmouth.

“Well don’t strain your brain, Sherlock.” Satisfied that her face was perfect as always, the ex-prom queen replaced her compact back into the expensive bag.

Xander shifted in his seat to fully face his girlfriend, scowling.

“Besides,” Cordelia spoke manner of fact, returning his glare. “It’s as plain as the pimple on your face.”

“Okay, first off, Cordy, the expression is ‘plain as the nose on your face.’ And, secondly-“

“Not in your case, Harris.” Cordelia’s smirk made Xander irritated. Unfortunately, it turned him on as well. And he knew she knew, so that only made him even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve got a big fat zit glaring out at me on your forehead.”

Xander’s hands flew to his brow, frantically feeling for any bumps. He grabbed his girlfriend’s purse, rifling through it to find her compact.

Cordelia promptly smacked his hand away.

“Ow! Cordy, that hurt!” Xander cradled his injured hand. “Do you really have to hit that hard?”

Cordelia positioned her expensive handbag out of his reach, and pointedly ignored his outburst. “Hello! First off, whatever happened that night caused major emotional trauma, and it’s obvious Giles is somehow involved.” As Xander began to stare at her incredulously, the former prom queen continued. “Why do you think Giles got fired?”

Xander felt flustered. “Well, he helped out Faith when the Council told him not to. That just proves what a good guy G-man is, not letting his Slayer go through all that alone.”

Cordelia sighed dramatically. “Think about it: How is it that Faith, THE SLAYER, could not defeat ONE vampire?”

“Well, he was like a super vamp. I mean he was psychotic and all…” Xander’s rationale was even starting to sound weak to himself.

“Okay, how long have you been a part of Faith’s merry band? Xander, catch a clue! Did you happen to notice how bad each one of them looked? There was no way Faith was at full Slayer strength, which obviously means something was done to her to make her a regular human girl. Although I can honestly say that I would never classify her as normal, considering what she wears-“

“Cordy, stay on topic!”

“As I was saying,” Cordelia shot him a withering stare, “considering this fact, on top of the hostility (and believe me, there was plenty of hostility in that room when they came back), between Faith and Giles, well, it’s obvious Giles did something to Faith to suppress her Slayer powers.”

Xander’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “What?!”

“Oh, for God’s sakes Xander!” Cordelia rolled her eyes at her clueless boyfriend, and leaned forward into Xander’s personal space, her eyes boring into his. “Let me spell it out for you: Giles betrayed his Slayer. And nearly got Willow killed because of it.”

Xander gaped like a fish out of water. Why couldn’t anything be simple in his world?

Submitting to the waiting comfort of the cushy couch, Cordelia leaned back, smirking. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Willow finally came out of the closet today.”

“Again I say, what?!”

***

“Okay, Red, you wanna tell me why you were so tense in there?”

Willow’s sneaker kicked at some pebbles on the sidewalk. She had been avoiding Faith’s gaze all night, and it was starting to piss the Slayer off.

“It’s nothing.”

Faith stopped her best friend with a forceful hand on the redhead’s arm, swinging a reluctant Willow to face her.

“Bullshit, Wills. I know you, and there’s somethin’ else besides you not wanting to tell Xander about your jonesing for the fairer sex.”

Willow finally brought her emerald eyes up to meet her friend’s, and Faith grew even more concerned at the amount of anxiety she witnessed in the redhead’s features.

“Faith, I’m sorry.” Willow drew a deep breath, and Faith could tell whatever Willow was going to tell her that it would be big. “I guess I do need to talk to you about things that I haven’t talked to you about, coz they need to be talked about, and-“

“Okay, Wills, slow down on the babble.” Faith dropped Willow’s slim arm, feeling a bit guilty at the strong-arm tactic. “We’re almost at your house now. Ya can tell me whatever you want when we get there.”

Willow placed a trembling hand on the Slayer’s arm, pleading. “I really don’t want to talk about it there.”

Faith drew back slightly, in surprise. She knew Willow’s parents were still away on one of their extended trips, so why wouldn’t she want to discuss it in the privacy of her own home?

“It’s ‘bout what happened that night, huh?”

Willow nodded with her head cast down. Faith slid her reassuring arm around her best friend’s slender shoulders. “Okay Wills name the place and we’re there.”

Willow raised her head, her brow furrowing. Faith could almost see the proverbial wheels grinding away, running down the list of their usual hangouts.

Willow bit her lip. “Um, well, I was thinking, if Giles wasn’t there, maybe the library?”

Faith frowned. Was there something else Giles neglected to tell them, or lied to them about? Did he hurt Willow in some way?

Faith feigned nonchalance, hoping to put the other girl at ease. “Sure, Wills, whatever you need. It’s all five by five.” Faith smirked. “I think Giles is at home watchin’ Masterpiece Theater or some shit like that anyhow.”

Willow’s brow cleared, and Faith did an internal breathed a sigh of relief at the release of tension.

“Okay, Faith. Let’s go.”

***

**From the Journal of Willow Rosenberg**

**Tuesday, January 25th, 1999**

_Well, I finally told Faith the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Boy, was I scared! Faith is the best, though. She understood why it took me some time to be full disclosure Willow._

_I told her at the library. It was the best (safest) place I could think of. Well, since Giles wasn’t there, that is. I don’t know why I think this, but I couldn’t SENSE anything. That doesn’t sound logical, I know, but there is nothing logical about the Hellmouth anyways!_

_Maybe I’m being paranoid, but the fact that those Council creeps kidnapped me in my own bedroom…well, I just don’t know how far they will go anymore. I can’t help but wonder if they have cameras hidden around the house, watching me like Big Brother or something._

_There must be something I can do to protect the library before it goes all George Orwell. After all, I just made my computer creep proof. I used my hacker skills and witch fu powers to make it impossible for someone to gain access. If they look close at what I’m doing, it looks like I’m doing homework!_

_I’ve also found a spell to not only ward off vamps, but also to make it so anyone who doesn’t live here has to have an invite. ;) So, take that all you beasties and evil Council guys!_

_Faith has been so concerned over my safety ever since that night, that she has stayed overnight almost this whole week. I appreciate it, but it’s been difficult trying to get any research done without her knowledge. Now that Faith knows everything, I plan on using a search bolt overnight to see what can come up. I still have a nagging feeling that I won’t find anything on-line. I bet it will definitely come down to me getting all research-y with Giles’ texts. Faith and I came up with a plan for me to gain access into Giles’ library tomorrow. We’ll see if it works._

_I still don’t know what the dream’s actual meaning is or what that poop head Travers meant by The Phoenix Prophecy. Considering that both have ties to Egyptian mythology, I can’t help but wonder if the two are related? And why did Travers’ eyes get all red and glow-y when he asked me about the prophecy?_

_From my knowledge of Egyptian Mythology, I have a pretty good idea what certain aspects of the phoenix bird and my dream relate to. I mentioned all of this to Faith, who just said it was all over her head, which is a load of hooey. Faith is much smarter than she says she is. Her words: “I slay, you research and shit.”_

_Anyway, here are the basics:_

‘ _K, first I’ll start off with the phoenix bird. The problem with the phoenix bird is that it means different things to different cultures. If the dream and the prophecy are connected, I’m going with the Egyptian version, at least for now._

_The Egyptian phoenix bird is called the bennu, and is the soul of the Sun-god Ra, and represents creation and resurrection. It would be a nest and die in flames, only to be reborn from ashes._

_The dream all centers on one small part connected to the Egyptian sun god, Ra. There is the belief that every night Ra had to travel on a Solar Barque called the Barque of Millions of Years along the celestial river throughout the Egyptian underworld called the Duat. This is done from the time when the sun sets in the West and rises again in the East. In order for the sun (Ra) to rise, he and others on his barque will encounter various enemies and allies. The Duat is divided into twelve hours. Each hour presents a difficulty and monster to defeat to continue the journey._

_In the dream, it seems that the barque is at the seventh hour. In the previous hour, Ra was reconnected with his soul, so he (as the Sun) begins his regeneration. Now, he faces his greatest danger at the beginning of the seventh hour when he encounters the water serpent._

_A powerful warrior, Set, known as the god of chaos, storms, the desert, and foreign lands, was assigned to protect Ra throughout the journey, standing watch in the front of the barque. Although there were others in the barque, only Set was capable of slaying the water serpent night after night._

_Set has been referred to as Set animal or an unidentifiable creature. One belief is that he has a human body with an animal head, such as a jackal. In my dream, though, I could tell Set’s head, along with the rest of his body, was human. But, the head was very animalistic, almost primal._

_Apparently, there was a link between Set and redheads, which gave him godhood over foreign lands. He was thought to be a protector of people with red hair. Okay, officially blushing here._

_Apparently, the Set in my dream is the original, and positive view of the god. The Egyptians saw him as a divine being serving as a counterbalance to the good side of the Egyptian universe. After all, there could be no order without his chaos and confusion. If there were no thunderstorms, there would be no good weather. Without desert and foreign lands there be no Egypt._

_Then, during the third immediate period, due to politics, he became demonized. That’s just rude! Okay, maybe I’m a little bit prejudiced here, but I think he got a raw deal! Sure, he was boastful and kinda conceited, but he was the only one who could slay the big evil water snake (The thought of that serpent gives me a serious case of the wiggins). Plus, the dead considered him their friend, helping them up his ladder to heaven._

_I mean, hey! he was considered to be the leader of warriors. I like that part. ‘K, maybe he was a little on the wild side, but he kept things safe, and he wound up being unappreciated. The politicians couldn’t control him, so they thought they could destroy him and replace him with a deity of their own choosing. Kinda like Slayers and The Watcher’s Council, huh? Grrr._

_Three goddesses rode on the barque to shield Ra from harm as well: Shu, Maahes, and Serqet (otherwise known as me!). Serqet is the ancient Egyptian scorpion goddess of magic. Which, of course, explains the super poisonous arachnid riding on top of my head! She protected, as well as punished, with super duper wrath. A little on the scary side, but kinda nice to know I can kick some major booty, even in my dreams._

_How literal I can take my dream, I’m not sure. For one thing, there are a few things that are not part of the mythology, like the relationship and attraction I felt as Serqet towards Set._

_Finding this info out helped make things a bit clearer, but my brain is still muddled. As much as all of this kinda, well, spooks me, I’d like to have another dream about it. Just to make things clearer, you understand. It has nothing to do with Set, or how hot I thought he/she(?) was._

_Oh, god, who am I kidding? It does have to do with that. I just came out to Faith, and now I’m having lusty wrong feelings for a dream warrior who seems to morph back and forth between gender?! Why doesn’t Sex Ed cover this sort of thing?!_

_‘K, it’s time to go sleepies, Willow. I need to set up that search bot anyways. If I’m lucky, the Sandman will bring me a dream of me riding in a barque with a powerful warrior and an Egyptian sun god._

_Minus the scorpion riding on top of my head, of course._

***

**Wednesday, January 26th 10:00 am London time**

——

Travers watched the Council’s gardener trim the bushes from his comfortable vantage point.

No, “Trim” wasn’t the right would. “Sculpt” was more like it.

The Council’s head gardener was a 70 year-old man who had been here for 35 years. When he had arrived, he was already an accomplished gardener, having worked on her majesty’s garden.

Geoffrey came at the behest of her majesty herself. The Council had always enjoyed full support from her highness, and had allowed the Queen a few clandestine visits over the years. Upon one visit, she had noticed the poor state of the council’s garden, and had offered her premier gardener. Geoffrey turned out not to be just a premier gardener, but a virtual artist as well. Travers admired how he could take a shamble of a bush, and meticulously snip it into something beautiful. Nothing was out of the place; no branch, no twig stuck out. The man was an artist at keeping everything into its proper order.

Travers shifted his gaze and his musings to more important matters at hand. He swiveled his desk chair to match the gorgeous antique maple desk. His eyes flickered briefly to the wooden scepter discreetly standing in the corner closest to him, tucked safely between the wall and large bookcase. Travers turned his attention to the antique desk. He ran his hand along the underside of the right hand corner of his desk. The Council Head finally succeeded in his search, and a very small piece of wood released at the press of a button. Travers entered the combination, and a small drawer popped open to reveal a black leather journal.

Safe in the knowledge that he had put his secretary on strict orders not to disturb him, he opened up the journal containing all, and any, information regarding the Phoenix Prophecy. Travers poured through its contents, mulling over the best course of action in preventing the prophecy coming to fruition. For what felt like to be the millionth time, Travers reread the only parts of the prophecy that had been unearthed. Too many questions remained unanswered.

Frustrated, he again studied the information yielded from the extensive examination of the Cruciamentum’s videotape. The examination only confirmed what he had already surmised: the Slayer had been helped by some extraneous force. There was an additional player in the game. An unknown variable that Travers had no idea how to combat.

The stakes had been raised, and it was time to make a deal.

And he knew exactly where to go.

***

Willow felt a sense of satisfaction as she packed her school books into her Snoopy backpack.

It was only Wednesday, and the young redhead was amazed that her physics homework was complete, not to mention her English essay nearly done. Of course, she mused, the real reason had been in order to avoid the awkwardness of the entire Scooby session.

Most of the meeting had been spent with Faith and Giles sparring. The usual slaying report was discussed, albeit in a short and succinct manner. It was evident that Giles was still discomfited over the effect the previous events had upon his relationships with both Willow and Faith. Each had had their heart to heart with Giles, attempting to clear the air, and had resumed normal activity despite enduring resentments. Giles was no longer officially Faith’s watcher, but there had been some sort of unspoken agreement between the Slayer and her Watcher that this point was irrelevant, even in the face of a new prescribed Watcher. Everyone knew there was no one more suited for Faith’s Watcher. Giles understood the dynamics of the group and the roles each played in keeping Faith alive. The Scoobies were aware of his recognition, despite his unarticulated declaration. The new Watcher, most likely a Council puppet, would never respect this essential interaction, instead promoting the archaic view that the Chosen One must perform her duties alone. If this happened, Faith would never make it beyond six months, and that was unacceptable to anyone.

Throughout Faith’s and Giles’ sparring, Xander had remained sullen, occasionally throwing Willow and Faith dirty looks. The brunette boy had been looking like he would snap at the redhead any second; over what, Willow wasn’t sure, and, quite frankly, was afraid to ask.

Willow had a feeling, however, that he had discovered what she had been trying (poorly, it seems) to hide. She had also harbored an idea at the revealer of the information. Sitting next to Xander, the “revealer” had spent most of the meeting in a bored examination of her freshly painted nails.

Cordelia had a much better perception of things than Xander ever did. Even after three years with the scoobies, he still managed to put certain things in a black and white fashion. All demons and vamps: bad. All of the scoobies: good. But, Xander being Xander had only heard what he had wanted to hear. In his mind, the scoobies’ father figure was beyond corruption of the world’s evil outside forces. Xander refused to acknowledge that Giles was nothing more than a man with human failings. And, of course, Willow and Faith not being completely honest with him only served to add fuel to the fire. The thought of Xander’s heroes or his close friends betraying his ideal notion of them was more than he could stand. In Xander’s world, they were not allowed to fall from their pedestal.

And all three were falling right now.

At last, Giles had dismissed the scoobies, declaring the need for some earl grey in his office. Willow had been scheming for a way to corner Giles without Xander’s knowledge. Her and Faith’s plan was for Willow to express the need to research for a school project over the next few days, thus explaining the amount of time spent in the library stacks. Again, the use of a white lie bothered Willow, but her lingering distrust of Giles overcame any guilt.

Faith’s primary job consisted of moving a bad tempered Xander out of there as fast as possible. Wondering if that was at all possible, Willow shared a worried glance with the Slayer who, at the moment, was the target of Xander’s glowering. The young redhead nervously fiddled with her backpack straps as she furtively watched the scene before her.

“Come on, Xander.” Cordy heaved a heavy sigh as she stood, gathering her books in her arms. “Scooby time is over. It’s time to break in Daddy’s new credit card at the mall, and you promised to be my slave for the day.”

Willow’s eyebrows shot up at that statement, but Xander didn’t move from his chair or turn his surly gaze away from Faith. Not easily rattled, Faith struck a casual pose, leaning back in her chair with her feet up on the table, lazily twirling a stake. “Slave, huh? I hope your gettin’ somethin’ outta this deal, Xan.“

Any further cajoling on Faith’s part was interrupted by the swing of the library doors, and a crisp British accent. “Excuse me, Miss Lehane.”

Three heads turned to see two figures dressed immaculately in tweed, each one the perfect embodiment of what they all hated.

But Willow saw something else.

The girl’s heart skipped a beat as she laid eyes upon the cocky pose boasted in the entrance to the library. Under the scrutiny of an intense, unwavering gaze, a paralyzed Willow felt a surge of lust rush through her. Helpless to stop it, a deep flush spread up her body. Unwittingly, Willow released an audible gasp at the sight before her.

Smirking at Willow’s open display of desire, was Set, the savior of Ra.


	6. What The Frilly Heck Is Going On?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Flashback of Willow's dream is in italics and separated by //

// _“Every day I slay the Enemy of Ra when I stand at the helm of the Barque of Millions of Years, which no other god dare do.”_ //

“Willow! Willow!”

// _…Ra nodded his assent…Set held his head higher if at all possible…She locked eyes with the strong warrior…a surge of heat rushed through her body…_ //

What was that waving in front of her face?

// _…Set’s voice rang out…His muscles ripple in anticipation as he stretched his sword out…_ //

Everything was so fuzzy…

// _…The water snake demon’s tail rose in the waters…_ //

Why was she lying down on something soft when she had to prepare her magicks for the attack?

// _She glanced at the helm… and the warrior leapt into the fight._ //

She heard her own voice cry out…

“SET! SET!”

Willow twisted wildly; the battle cry fresh in her ears, and the spray of the water across her face, as her hands gripped the side of the swinging Barque.

********

“Willow! Willow!”

Cordelia watched as Faith cradled Willow in the midst of her dramatic fainting spell. Or maybe it was a seizure, Cordelia couldn’t tell. The tall brunette always knew the redhead had to have some sort of mental imbalance. I mean, look at those clothes Willow wears. Bad fashion sense is definitely a sign of mental imbalance.

Cordelia exhibited no surprise when Xander jumped down from his perch on the library table. He rushed to Willow’s side as if his mere presence was enough to put an end to the redhead’s fit. Before Willow’s declaration of love for all things Sapphic, Cordelia might have felt a twinge of jealousy. Now she simply rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s display of concern. Only moments before Xander was acting out a childish tirade over how he was being shut out of their lives. At the least little bit of provocation Xander folded.

Just as Cordelia knew he would.

“Mr. Giles! This display is entirely inappropriate. Is this how you generally conduct your meetings?”

Cordelia had momentarily forgotten about the new Gileses. Her gaze drifted towards the direction of the scathing remark, seeing both Watchers still standing in the doorway. The male Watcher simply looked put out, as if the redhead was intentionally raining on his parade. The female Watcher eyes were glazed over; Cordelia briefly wondered if the Watcher’s Council advocated drug use. It would certainly explain their obsession with tweed.

The cocky pose of the female Watcher from earlier had disappeared. In place was a face and pose full of determination.

Aimed directly at Willow.

“Faith, let’s take her into my office.”

Cordelia’s attention was diverted at the sound of Giles’ voice. The Prom Queen caught the lost, fearful look on Faith’s face as the Slayer glanced up at Giles. Faith lifted a limp Willow, heading for Giles’ office; the new Watchers presence completely ignored.

“Serqet! Serqet!”

Cordelia turned just in time to see the female Watcher take two steps towards them, then falling unconscious. As the woman collapsed, the male Watcher tried in vain to catch her before she slumped into a dead heap on the floor. “Miss Summers!”

Cordelia’s eyebrows rose at the entire display, her previous examination of her freshly painted nails forgotten.

For once the Scooby meeting was actually entertaining.

********

The flickering light inside the small rustic cottage cast an eerie glow.

A shadowed plump figure crossed back and forth the length of the living room window. The figure’s pace was not hurried; rather each movement seemed calculated in the figure’s preparations for what was to come.

All the man in the bushes had to do, was wait.

********

“Wha..?”

Like the lens of a camera, the place Willow was in began to come into focus, as well as the people she was with.

“F-Faith?”

The warmth of the body behind her and the strong arms wrapped around Willow’s midsection provided the redhead with a deep sense of security. “It's all right, Red, I got ya.”

Willow pawed at her sweat soaked shirt absently, disoriented.

“Willow, how are you feeling?” Giles leaned forward in his desk chair, his brow furrowed in concern.

Willow stole a glance at her surroundings. She was in Giles’ office? “Yeah…yeah, I’m good. I don’t…how did I get here?”

She noticed Faith and Giles share a look, and then Faith spoke. “Giles, can ya leave me and Wills alone for a minute?”

Giles opened his mouth to protest, but Faith cut him off. “C’mon, G, just let me handle it.”

Giles nodded and cleared his throat, clearly discomfited. It was obvious to Willow that the Englishman wasn’t happy but he relented, tentatively patting the redhead’s arm. “Yes, well Willow, if you need anything, I’ll just be outside.”

Giles rose, walking the few feet to the door. His hand on the doorknob, Giles glanced back at Willow with a question on his face. Willow wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a spark of distrust in his eyes before Giles left, closing the door behind him.

Faith scooted out from her position of holding Willow from behind and gently lay Willow back down on the couch. The Slayer carefully sat next to her on the edge of the couch. “All right, Will, ya wanna tell me what happened out there, coz you scared the shit out of all of us.”

Willow brushed damp locks off of her forehead, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know, Faith. The last thing I remember, I was in the library. Next I was having…flashbacks? To that dream about Set that I told you about. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. I figured it was that, you crying out Set’s name and all.” Faith gestured to the office door with her head. “That’s why I sent G-man away.”

“What happened?” Willow’s eyes traveled the scope of Giles’ office, still unable to fully process the situation.

“I carried you in here. Right after Jeeves and his girl got here.”

Willow frowned. “Jeeves? What are talking about Faith?”

“You know, the new tweed Watcher and his assistant, or some shit. You fainted so fast that we didn’t really have a chance to say diddly-squat before I was carrying your ass in here.”

Willow perked up at this information. “Faith! I remember now! Set was standing with them in the doorway!”

“Look Red, I just told you, there was nobody ‘cept that dipshit new watcher and some tweed woman with him. Another Watcher I guess.” Faith sounded impatient, but Willow knew deep concern was there as well. 

“But…but…I saw…” Willow shook her hand slightly in bewilderment.

“What?”

“K, I do remember some man that was obviously a Watcher. But I’m telling you, it was Set next to him!”

One eyebrow arched in doubt. “Okay, Red, I’m not gonna argue the point. “

“Where are they now?” Willow automatically turned her head towards Giles’ office window only to find the blinds down.

Faith shrugged. “Dunno, and personally don’t care-“

A light rap sounded on the door.

“We’re still busy in here, Giles!” Faith’s eyes narrowed at the interruption. Truth be told, Willow didn’t want to see Giles anyways.

“Faith. It’s me Xander.” Willow had mixed feelings regarding Xander and wondered at his intentions. She heard no anger only concern in his voice, making the redhead hopeful that he was over his petulance.

“What do you want, Xander?” Faith visibly tensed, her tone carrying noticeable reproach.

“Can I come in for a minute? I just want to check on Willow.”

Willow laid her hand on Faith’s arm, calming the Slayer down. They briefly exchanged a meaningful glance before Faith nodded at Willow’s unspoken question. “You can come in, Xander.”

The boy poked his head in the doorway sheepishly. “Um, hey Wills. I was getting kinda worried there, what with your whole fainting thing going on.”

Willow sighed in exasperation, countering it with an encouraging half smile. “Xander, you can come all the way in, you know.”

“Oh. Um, right.” He offered a tentative smile as he entered the office, closing the door behind him. Xander stood awkwardly with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets, rocking slightly on his feet. “Uh…Wills…um, sorry…uh...”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Xander, it’s alright. I know you’ve been mad at me, and acting like big stupid guy.” Willow held out her hand to Xander, which he cheerfully grasped.

“C'mon, sit down.” She tugged Xander into Giles’ chair. Her eyes skirted to Faith, happily noticing the Slayer’s composure return. “Look, Xan,” Willow began carefully, hoping to forestall any of his hurt and angry feelings. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. There has been a lot of stuff that I couldn’t even make sense of myself. I needed to be thought girl on this for awhile before I talked to anyone.”

“Yeah, but how come you could tell Faith and not me?” He soulfully gazed at her before casting his brown eyes down, mumbling, “I mean, I’m your bestest bud. Right?”

Willow squeezed his hand, tugging on it gently to recall his attention. She ducked her head slightly to catch his gaze. “I’m sorry, Xan. I never meant to hurt you. There’s too much to go into here about the whys and the what nots, and the whys of the what not-“

“Look, Xan,” Faith cut off the babble, “there’s been a lot of stuff going down, ya know?” Faith ran a frustrated hand through her raven locks. “We were gonna tell ya, but we needed to work out some shit first.”

The redhead softly squeezed the brunette boy’s hand, sending him a smile. “I think it’s time-and I think Faith would agree with me on this-that we tell you everything.”

Faith nodded. “Yeah. Just not here, ya know?”

Willow stole a glance at Faith. “Definitely not here. I would say we could go to my house, but that’s out for reasons you don’t know about.”

Xander squirmed slightly in his chair, causing it to creak. “I have an idea of where to go, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.” His eyes skirted the Slayer’s way.

“I think I know where you going with this, Xan.” Faith drew a deep breath, directing her next sentence to Willow. “It’s been on my mind ever since last night. I could tell ya weren’t very comfortable talkin’ in your house, but I just figured it was coz of all the crap goin’ on…that you were still upset and all. Then I got kinda freaked when ya were all scared of being anywhere else. Period. Well, it got me thinkin’...” Faith fidgeted. Willow’s free hand instinctively grasped her best friend’s fingers in a gesture of support; apprehension creeping in the back of the redhead’s mind at the direction this conversation was heading.

Faith dropped her head, mumbling, “Last night, after I left you, Wills, I went back to the mansion for the first time since…”

The Slayer inhaled deeply, before letting out an audible breath. “Well, anyhow, I think I made my peace with everythin’.” Her gaze returned to Willow, a small smile forming on her lips. Faith look fixedly at Xander, her tone and face resolute.

“Yeah, Xan, we should go to the mansion.”

********

Travers surveyed his supplies with confidence.

All of the required contents were packed in order to perform the night’s complicated ritual. Travers grunted in satisfaction, his eyes straying from his supply bag to the curtained living room window. He frowned as he realized his mistake of not closing the shutters in the window as well.

Travers advanced the few feet towards his intended target, intent on shutting out the rest of the world when he paused. A faint sensation of being watched crept up his spine. He resisted the urge to peek out of the curtains opting instead to simply close the shutters. Travers’ ego assured him that his precautionary steps in preventing preying eyes were more than enough to discourage any lingering feeling of paranoia.

The warmth on his back turned his attention to the fireplace. The Englishman ambled over to the roaring flames, his purpose to extinguish the last remaining light. Instead, he stopped short, soaking up the heat. Travers watched the fire, his hands tucked in his pants pockets. The pinewood sparked with the sounds of pops and crackles as it the logs burned aimlessly without care, feeding on the oxygen in the room. At the moment the fire was constrained by the brick fireplace, preventing its freedom for abandonment without care. Travers knew he had the power to release it from its confines but he had no wish to do so. Fire needed to be controlled and at his mercy, no matter how much it resisted. Now Travers set to procure the necessary means to control fire once and for all.

Letting go of his musings, Travers closed the vent to the chimney, dousing the flames with ashes. His red eyes glowed with an almost manic enthusiasm as he rose. Travers’ infrared vision caught sight of the cherished item leaning against the corner wall. Slipping his bag replete with his various supplies onto his shoulders, the Englishman picked up the corner’s sacred object. Content with the matters at hand, Travers set off downstairs to begin his journey.

********

Outside of the cottage, a cruel smile spread across the hidden man’s face.

The Servant would soon become the Master.


	7. Curiosity Killed The Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang meet at the Espresso Pump while Giles reflects on the events of the past few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giles' Journal entry is in bold.

Willow eyed the barista, sizing up his allegiance to good vs. evil; after all, he was new, and this was the Hellmouth.

“You want whipped cream on that?”

Willow was still lost in a haze of a suspicion, fast becoming a torrent of babbling in her already overtaxed mind, her consciousness barely registering the barista’s query. Fortunately, a force saved the redhead some face.

“She’ll take whip. Lots of it.”

A swift jab to the ribs brought Willow back to the land of the living (one could argue the point on that in Sunnydale). “Whip! Yes. I like whipped cream very much.”

“Sure thing.” The barista frowned, returning to his espresso machine.

“C’mon, Red, let’s go sit down.”

Willow simply nodded, allowing Faith to drag her to their table in the back. Willow’s nervous eyes darted, as they walked amid the college students enjoying their 8 p.m. caffeine pick-me-up, stimulating their brains for studying or conversation ranging from stimulating intellectual to lighthearted absurdities.

Draped over a stool lay Faith’s jacket along with a few of the many books that lived in Willow’s backpack scattered about on the table top in the ritual 'staking claim to your seat' among those who frequent coffeehouses. Upon reaching their destination, Faith snagged her leather jacket from the stool, and shrugged into the coat in lackadaisical fashion. The Slayer plopped down on a stool with her back against the wall in order to keep an eye out for Xander and Cordelia and any signs of impending evil stepping foot into the small café.

Shrugging off her stuffed Snoopy backpack, Willow set it precariously on the stool next to her. The redhead cleared her two books from the tabletop and stuffed them into the backpack now on the verge of resembling a pregnant woman in her 9th month. This accomplished she grabbed its straps intending to ease down onto the floor. Unfortunately the bag had other ideas, the weight dropping the bag a little too fast for Willow, who stumbled slightly due to gravity doing its job too well.

The redhead wanted to move the stool out of her way, but unfortunately they were fixed into the ground making them impossible to move. Willow ignored Faith watching her, and instead the redhead settled on her haunches, reluctantly realizing crawling deeper underneath the table was in order to complete her objective. After much scooting and scrunching, Willow began the process of shoving the backpack into the corner between her and Faith’s stool grunting as she did so.

“Need a little help there, Wills?” Willow heard from above, the amusement ringing loud and clear in the voice.

“No, I’ve almost got it.” Willow knew when she rose she would see a smirk on the Slayer’s face.

Finally the pack was situated in the corner out of the eyes of any baddies but easily accessible for Willow in case of attack. Willow patted the pack once more for emphasis before carefully backing up on her knees, extremely happy her skirt was a bit longer today to prevent any unwanted viewing of her derriere.

It entailed a good amount of effort in rising, but she finally stood before her friend who was sure enough smirking. Shooting the Slayer a dark look, the redhead huffed in annoyance causing a few stray wisps of hair to blow off her face. Willow smoothed her mused hair and skirt, feeling a sense of relief and a bit of pride in accomplishing her objective. Before she slid onto her stool Willow cast one last cursory glance around the café. Deeming it safe, she sat down.

“What?”

The smirk had disappeared but there was still a twinkle in the Slayer’s eye. “Nothin’,” Faith shook her head. “I still can’t believe you packed all this stuff, Wills.”

“Faith! I told you,” Willow hissed, her voice abruptly dwindling to a whisper, “my witch-fu stuff was necessary…just in case …”

“Don’t worry, Red. It’s all five by five. Just trying for a little levity cuz you look like you’re gonna have a heart attack or somethin’.” Pausing, Faith’s relaxed demeanor changed into one of concern. Leaning into Willow, the Slayer tensed, focusing her entire attention on the anxious redhead. “Look, I’m worried too…especially after…” Faith squirmed in her seat, “Let’s just say I like ya better a lot more conscious.”

Willow smiled, always pleased and honored the Slayer felt safe enough with her to show her vulnerability. She knew how difficult it was for Faith to put herself out there. The young redhead gently squeezed her best friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll calm down. But…” Willow bit her lip, “Do you think it was a good idea? Meeting here instead of the mansion, I mean.”

“It’s not somethin’ that happens everyday but, yeah, for once I agree with Queen C.” Faith shrugged in apparent blasé, relaxing her pose, easing back. “Lots of people, nobody payin’ much attention to us. It’s nothin’ different; we always come here, that ain’t new.”

“One medium coffee with two add shots and a large mocha extra whip!” rang out from the bar.

“Gonna grab our drinks, Wills.” Faith hopped off her chair. She winked at Willow whose fingers fretfully fiddled with her sweater sleeves. “Don’t worry-I’ll be back before Queen C arrives sportin’ her crown and you get so mad you cause her million dollar piece of shit bag to explode in a ball of flame.” Faith wisecracked and made her way to pick up their caffeine.

Ignoring Faith’s quip, Willow adjusted her position to face as much of the wall as she possibly could, and concentrated on calming herself by slowing her heartbeat and breathing. She had always felt completely safe in the Slayer’s presence; now…well...the events of the past week had left the feeling of not even a Slayer fully being able to protect her. Even the young redhead’s increased witch-fu ability did not lend to a sense of absolute security.

Still balking at the idea of coming here, Willow had to admit Cordelia had a point. In Faith’s case, Willow suspected the welcoming of Cordelia’s idea may have stemmed more from the Slayer’s reticence to spend anymore time in the mansion than necessary, despite her best friend’s declaration her closure regarding Angel. Keeping this in mind, Willow left herself open to alternate suggestions.

Even if they came from Queen C.

***

Cordelia’s curiosity had been piqued by the incident in the library, something that rarely happened in her forced association with the Scoobies.

The Scoobies actually listened to her for once. Over Willow. Over sweet, adorable, can do no wrong Willow. A smirk crossed her face at the thought.

Willow’s spectacle swirled amid the lack of disclosure from all participants involved in Circiamentum...it was like one loooooong tease. Cordelia had a sudden empathy for the varying young men she dated, the power of bringing them to the brink only to deny them the final thrill of sexual satisfaction.

Thank GOD they were meeting at the Espresso Pump instead of Willow’s ridiculous cloak and dagger routine in using the mansion as the meeting place. I mean please, invisible while darting between tombstones? Have the little pow-wow at the mansion of death? Just by being there could set Faith over the edge. A psycho slayer had to be way worse than a psycho vampire.

The solution was so simple. They always go to the Espresso Pump, why would anyone think they would discuss anything worthwhile among others? Besides the Espresso Pump was not on the list of places the popular crowd would be. Too many nerds. Even the college students were nerds; either studying or talking and debating about some dead guys who did something…something somewhere somehow that apparently changed the world but had nothing to do with her life, so get over it and move on. Whatever. Convo should be saved for the important things in life: fashion and guys. Besides the only guys worthwhile were in fraternities. And they all went to Starbuck’s.

So what was she stuck doing? Talking about some crap about how some dead guys made a prophecy of an apocalypse, which really would change the world as we know it and would actually affect her.

Ironic much?

If she was forced to socialize amid the lower classes and be denied the satisfaction of rule over the popular crowd, the fruits of this foray into downward mobility had better be rich.

And nothing less than complete and immediate gratification would do.

***

Giles puttered around his apartment, picking up remnants of Xander Harris’ proclivities.

Just for once it would be nice if the boy appreciated the opportunity to visit the ex-watcher’s house. At this thought, Giles paused for a moment. He was acutely aware of the boy’s negligent home life; this really was the only semblance of a home any of the teens had as their parents were either constantly remiss in their duties of raising the youngsters. Frequent absence of parents and abuse were inexcusable.

The Englishman experienced remorse at his initial irritation, and a small smile graced his lips feeling proud in a sense that he was able to provide a child’s inherent need as well as the unspoken affection he held for his young charges. This contemplation brought back the afternoon’s events, reminding him of his concern regarding these ‘children’ of his.

It was on this note a troubled Giles felt the necessity to express his ruminations of the day

*****

**From the Journal of Rupert Giles**

**Wednesday, January 26th, 1999**

**Today, even by Hellmouth standards, I witnessed a very perplexing state of events that my mind has trouble conceptualizing.**

**I have a grave concern for Willow, and my mind holds many questions with answers as fanciful as the next. Was the trigger to her fainting spell only related to the fact that these new individuals simply represent the Council?**

**Willow had communicated the nightmare on the night of Cruciamentum was not due to anything but school related. Considering the day’s events, I didn’t press her on the issue, although I could not help but wonder if the nightmare was precipitated by the terrible events of the night.**

**It is obvious that something about the appearance of the Watchers triggered flashbacks to her nightmare. Did these particular two have some sort involvement in that night? Was Willow hurt by one of them? Despite Faith and Willow’s reticence to confide in me, I have difficulty in believing this scenario. I have high doubt either Watcher was remotely close to the safe house that night. Travers, the lying ass that he is, seemed to be truthful in regards to the Watchers setting forth from England AFTER Cruciamentum.**

**The young whelp showed no concern for Willow whatsoever. However I am surprised at the concern shown by his associate. At first glance, she had the appearance of nothing more than a dutiful Council drone. It is telling her reaction was extreme considering she had never met Willow before, especially considering Watchers are trained to ignore others, and to concentrate only on the Slayer. Thus, why on earth would a Watcher show so much concern for Willow?**

**Although I had barely talked to the young woman, many other things beyond her caring struck me as odd. At one point, she placed her hand on my arm in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so petite. Add to that, her face seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how that could possibly be. I’ve never met the young woman until today. Yet strangely I have a gut feeling that she can be trusted. This of course seems illogical considering she was with that bloody pounce representing the Council.**

**Which brings me to having never heard of such a thing as a Watcher-In-Training. After training at the academy, if you were assigned a slayer it was essentially baptism by fire. I didn’t have time to question Wyndam-Pryce on the matter. I am certain that he would be less than forthcoming. Thus I put in a call to a trusted member, and they replied with a yes, the idea of a Watcher-in-Training has only recently become policy. But a protégé assigned to the active Slayer’s Watcher is out of the ordinary. In this case Travers overruled the rule, which in my mind signals the proverbial red flag. I can’t help but wonder if some nefarious reason exists under this almost certain pretense.**

**As for Willow, I can only hope she and the others will come to trust me once more and reveal the truth surrounding her nightmare and fainting spell. And I realize I must earn this trust and this will most likely only come with time. Regardless, I internally debate as to whether to hold off until this trust is verified. It is obvious there is more than meets the eye surrounding these events, much more. It is most certainly related to Travers and the Council. This thought frightens me; the ruthless of Travers extends so much more beyond their recent experiences. I’m afraid this is the tip of the iceberg and they are ill prepared.**

**While my mind contemplates these particulars, one query above all others strikes me which may be the first key to unlocking the secrets and providing the answers I so desire.**

**Who IS Elizabeth Summers?**


	8. Sometimes All It Takes Is A Bitca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry to say, this is the last chapter I left off of when I initially began this story. By my estimate, there is roughly ten or so chapters left. This is one of stories I have plans to work on this coming year, but I also have some Warehouse 13 stories to work on as well.

 The hot liquid felt good flowing down the Slayer’s throat; the familiar ritual with her best friend brought comfort to the unpredictability of the last week.

Faith watched her friend making valiant attempts at sipping her mocha without whipped cream sticking on her nose, each try nothing more than a losing battle. Such is the price for extra whip. A warm chuckle rumbled through the Slayer at Willow’s endeavors.

The exhausting and emotional events of the last week would have caused most people to be admitted for a psych. eval. Willow had not only managed to make it through Cruciamentum but rallied her intellect and witch-fu into actively dealing with the aftermath in her own unique Willow like way. But then again, Willow’s ability to bounce back from intense events always demonstrated the shy wallflower’s inner strength that Faith continually admired and loved.

Emotional upheaval had not only centered on the world of demons, prophecies, and the occasional apocalypse. The personal trauma of admitting to oneself that you are gay, not to mention the risk of rejection from the very first person you come out to, just added to the weight the young redhead carried.

But the episode today… Faith knew it was enough to crack Willow’s shell and the affects became apparent in public. The redhead was so nervous; Faith feared another fainting spell simply from anxiety.

Faith’s musings were put on hold as Xander and Cordelia entered her line of sight. The Slayer smiled as she interrupted a distracted Willow discretely wiping off whip cream with her forefinger. “Quit wiping your nose, Red.” Faith’s smile turned into a smirk. “The mistress and her slave are here.”

Willow half laughed, half snorted, causing the mocha’s remaining whipped cream to spray across the table.

***

Xander surveyed the ‘land’ that was the Espresso Pump Cafe, and his gaze fell upon a far corner table where he saw a smirking Slayer and a redhead appearing to clean something on the table with her pink fuzzy sweater sleeve.

Despite the sight worthy of a cringe and condescension from Cordelia, a warmth spread through him at the sight of his bestest buds; scary times may lay ahead, but he was welcomed back into the fold, ready to face the evil together as always. Nearly skipping in his excitement, Xander grinned and rubbed his hands in anticipation upon reaching the table.

“Sooooo…you gals ready to divulge all to the Xan-man whose wit and cunning cannot be matched in the fight against the dastardly, fiendish, diabolical, vile-“

***

‘Damn, he’s gonna do the snoopy dance or wet his pants if I don’t shut him up.’

Faith was irritable as she spat, “Yeah, Xan…we get it. Now shut the fuck up and sit down.” She flickered her eyes at the extremely embarrassed redhead, hoping the oblivious Xander would catch a clue. It apparently clicked; an “a-ha!” moment crossed the brunette boy’s face. Faith accepted his apologetic glance, easing back a bit opting for her usual casual pose to fool any unwanted observer.

A sheepish Xander settled onto the stool next to the cowering redhead, wrapping his arm over her fragile shoulders. The brunette boy leaned in and whispered only loud enough for Slayer hearing, “Sorry, Wills.”

*****

The mood relaxed as Willow’s tense body slackened and Xander‘s mind eased.

When she turned towards him, he was startled to see that the redhead was closer to the edge of losing it than he thought. The plans for tonight’s meet had at first seemed in the somewhat “rational” category, well for the scoobies at any rate; they would go to the empty mansion tonight after patrolling with Faith. Then Willow’s ideas turned…well…extreme. Complex spells of each person becoming invisible, and cloaking the mansion by some ceremony blocking out sound and lights and whatever Willow deemed necessary to protect them from the overwhelming and continued presence of all kinds of “nasties”, as she put it.

Cordelia of all people had come up with this more “rational” alternative. Xander was amazed Willow had agreed to meet here, but if anyone could convince her it was Faith. Xander knew their friendship was deep and Willow had absolute trust in the Slayer.

This Willow cowering next to him reminded him of the Willow in grade school frequently tormented by Cordelia and her minions. Since Faith’s arrival over two years ago, she had grown, becoming more confident. Resolve face making more and more appearances, and of course no one and nothing can stand up to the infamous Rosenberg resolve face for very long.

But now that confidence, that determination was missing. This has happened before, but not for very long. The pattern was always the same: initial panic followed by her strength at dealing with whatever the sitch was; protests or defeat be damned. But what of that pattern now? What if she never bounced back?

Whatever they were about to tell him was big accompanied by an apocalypse guarantee.

***

This was ridiculous.

Beyond ridiculous.

Something had to be done and it had to be done now. They would never get anything accomplished with Willow’s “poor me, pity me, I’m unable to deal with life on the Hellmouth” routine.

Get over it!

Cordelia didn’t have the time or the patience for Willow’s sob story or the fawning over the tragic redhead. Hallmark moments should be reserved for grandmas and the lifetime channel.

Willow needed to get angry.

And Cordelia, Queen C, was just the one to do it.

***

“Erm!”

A very disgruntled ex-prom queen coughing none-too-discreetly cut Xander’s musings short. Cordelia had been forgotten; and not just for any reason, but for the comfort of Willow. An act not so easily forgiven, he would definitely pay a pretty price for his lapse of sanity.

Xander hastily withdrew his arm from the redhead’s sudden radioactive body, a flush surfacing from the guilt still fresh in his mind over his past indiscretions with Willow. Cordelia’s smirk at his compliance brought anger, but now he couldn’t decide which made him more angry, Cordelia’s lack of sympathy for the redhead or himself for his weakness.

“Hope you left the whip at home, C.” Faith’s quip pissed him off.

“Where would I put it?” She held up her Gucci bag. “Besides, I don’t need my whip to keep Xander in line.”

“Hey!” Xander protested. “Sitting right here you know.”

Cordelia sighed, and slid onto the stool next to the annoyed boy. “All right, everyone, I’m here so I want answers NOW. Today. I am not missing a dress sale, THE dress sale of THE dress that is clearly meant for me, I might add, for just anything. Not to mention risking being seen among all of these nerds. Therefore, for all of my sacrifices I am owed all of the juicy, deep, dark painful secrets.”

Faith shot Xander a look clearly stating, “Control her or I will.”

“Cordy…“ He hazarded, trying his best to keep the peace. Seemingly oblivious to the tension, the ex-prom queen continued her onslaught.

“And not just about being all about girls, Willow.” Cordelia’s eyes bored into the redhead, and making sure no mistake could be made, she slowly spoke each word as if Willow were a child, “And trust me, you are sooo not up to my standards so don’t even THINK about hitting on me. I have enough problems with freaks and geeks.”

Sensing Willow’s body tense, Xander roughly rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, trying to keep himself in check.

‘Serenity now, serenity now.’

Cordelia just couldn’t resist crossing the line just like always. Xander didn’t know why he expected one time to be any different than the rest.

“A freak, geek girl who is unable to dress herself lusting after me is in no way my ideal.” Leaning in for the kill, the ex-prom queen stated, “Not even if you were the last person on earth, Willow.”

Finally satisfied with her ripping into an already miserable Willow, Cordelia eased back, and none too subtle, placed Xander’s arm around her shoulders, snuggling into his side.

***

On the small table closest to the Scoobies sat an utterly non-descript young man.

With his history book, opened to page 126 spouting off the intricacies of Alexander the Great’s conquests, his left hand gripped the counter as the other held a death grip on his book.

His brown eyes never left his page, though if one looked close enough, one would see a flash of gold in his eyes and the rage on his face.

***

The bitch needed to be taken down.

As Cordelia’s rant continued Faith began to fantasize about different ways to slay her, even going so far as to rationalize.

‘She’s not human. She’s a demon bitch. Giles would be cool with it.’

But Cordelia was smart, never doing anything without a reason. She was a player and she knew the score.

Faith’s eyes narrowed. What would Cordelia gain for Christ’s sakes? It was more than a power trip, although Faith was sure that part was a little extra benefit. Cordelia knew what reactions the Scoobies would have towards her humiliating Willow. A Willow who had become nothing more than a frightened little girl. A Willow with no confidence, no fight.

‘Fuck the rule.’

As Faith started to rise from her seat a glance at Willow’s flaming face, clenched fists, and stiff body stopped her. The Slayer powered down and a slow grin spread across her face.

Resolve face was back.

Willow was ready to unleash holy hell. That smug look wiped clean off Queen C’s face and she had no one to blame but herself.

Wait just a minute…No one to blame but herself’?

‘Holy Shit.’

Faith snorted and shook her head. Cordelia knew exactly what she was doing and Faith knew why.

Miracles do happen.

Within the last six hours Faith had actually agreed with Cordelia.

Twice.

***

Xander untangled his arm from Cordelia’s grip and was about to royally lay into her, beyond caring whether they were in public or not, when something caught the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Willow was not only angry.

She was pissed off.

***

Willow’s beet face was very close to explosion, her jaw tight, and her hands in tight little fists.

Forgotten was the crippling fear. Left behind was the scared little girl unable to fend for herself.

She was mad.

So very, very the mad.

Ad infinitum.

To infinity and beyond!

‘Oh, God, I’m channeling Xander.’ Floated through the red haze in her mind.

Amazingly enough it was Cordelia who brought back her resolve.

Go figure.

There was a use for Cordelia after all.

***

Willow’s eyes narrowed, ready to slay and flambé in Faith lingo, when she felt a tingle in the back of her mind.

Someone…or…something…familiar?...was near.

Eep!

He was here.

He was here…for her.


End file.
